Destiny
by SithMasterJosh
Summary: The untold story of Darth Sidious BEFORE he was the Dark Lord of the Sith. This prequel to the New Empire Trilogy chronicles Palpatine's introduction to the Sith and his apprenticeship under the tutelage of his Master, Darth Plagueis.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Night had fallen on Coruscant with a vengeance. As storms raged across half the northern hemisphere, a terrifying power was unleashed after decades of restless slumber. A great battle had been fought and won, a battle that would shape the face of things to come for centuries. _Millennia_. This night belonged to the Dark Side.

A dark shape stood in the small antechamber, silhouetted by the glaring lights of the Government District sprawling out behind it as far as the horizon. "Commander Cody," it croaked, its once handsome features now ravaged by its own Darkness and hidden deep within the shadows of its hood. The thing itself was little more than a living shadow, dark and foreboding, full of malice. Before the Shadow stood the half-sized hologram of a clone commander. This was its grand moment, the moment it had been bred for, the moment the Sith had been waiting for patiently but productively in the shadows for a millennium, working their insidious machinations to undermine the Jedi and the Republic they served. "The time has come," it said, the tiniest hint of elation creeping into its gravelly voice. "Execute Order Sixty-six."

The hologram bowed its head, clad in white armor that shone dully like bone in the hologram. "_Yes, my lord_," it said with all the obedience of a droid. The clones had served the Republic and the Jedi well in the war, but they had never truly belonged to either of them. They had always been an instrument of the Sith, the weapon crafted from its inception to strike the final blow when the time was right. And that time was now.

The Shadow grinned cruelly. It was done. A chain of events had just been triggered that would not—_could not_—be stopped. The Dark Lord contacted another clone commander with an identical message. And another. Then another. The dark figure was nearly overcome by its own malevolent glee. A coded message could have been broadcast to all commanders simultaneously, but the vile creature took immense pleasure in personally issuing the order over and over again. So long had the Shadow waited for this day, decades—_centuries_—in the making. It had accomplished what hundreds before it couldn't; the Thing had, at long last, erased the Jedi Order from the pages of history. The noble Knights of the Republic were no more. At that very moment, the galaxy sat firmly in the very capable hand of a Sith Lord, unopposed. None could snatch it from his grasp.

He was Palpatine, newly crowned Emperor of the Universe.

**Circa 50 years earlier…**

He knew his parents would never fully understand. But there was no way he could live and die a simple farmer. He wanted to accomplish more in his life than the perfect crop. He just wasn't a farmer. In his heart, he knew he was destined for more. The simple life couldn't satisfy him; his urge to make something great of himself had been slowly growing since his father had taken him and his mother to Coruscant on vacation. Hanging up his stocking cap, he nervously entered the small kitchen of his family home and stepped up beside his mother at the sink to wash his hands, preparing to give the speech he'd been practicing all day in his head.

"Mum, I've got something to tell you and Dad," the young man started, avoiding eye contact with his mother, who had continued to prepare vegetables for supper. He was a scrawny boy, despite working on a farm his whole life. Barely sixteen standard years old, he was wholly unremarkable in both appearance and abilities and had been plagued with constant illness as child, leaving him weak and undersized for a boy of his age. No one felt he was destined for much more than the son of grain farmers, who would eventually take over the family business himself. He, however, had different plans, plans that, until now, he had kept mostly to himself.

His mother Eldra, not looking up from the vegetables, said, "Alright, dear. What is it, then?" Her husband Daryn sat at their modest dining table reading the latest HoloNews report. He paused the report and looked at his son.

"Well, go ahead, lad," he said. "What is it that's so important?" Daryn was everything his son wasn't, large, well-muscled, with calloused hands and the bronze skin of a life-long farmer. But his voice was warm and his temperament kind and inviting and he never displayed any hint that he was disappointed in the way his boy had turned out.

The young man shifted anxiously from foot to foot. He was terrified to disappoint his parents, both of whom he loved very much. They had farmed the Southern Plains of Naboo's biggest continent since they could walk, just as their families had before them, and so on back for hundreds of years. Very few members of either family got away from grain farming, and of those who did, none were ever very successful. He would be different, though. He knew he would.

"Well," he started again slowly. "I didn't want to tell you until it was official, but I've been accepted into the University of Coruscant and I've decided to go." He saw his mother's mouth open but cut her off quickly. "Before you say anything about the cost, I've gotten in on a full academic scholarship through my time in the Youth Legislative Service. Mum, Dad, this is really going to happen."

For a single nervous heartbeat, he feared the worst. But his father stood, walked over to him, and shook his hand vigorously. "Congratulations, Son!" He pulled him in for a hug as he beamed widely. "I couldn't be more proud of you. Imagine that, my son getting a full scholarship to the best school in the Republic!"

The boy turned to his mother, who was being very quiet. "Mum? What do you think?"

A single tear traced a line down her suntanned cheek. "I knew you weren't destined for a farmer's life," she said, giving him a sad smile. "You have great things in your future. I've always known this day was coming." She, too, hugged him, wiping her eyes with her shirtsleeve. "We're so proud of you, darling."

"Thank you," said the boy, relieved. "Both of you." He looked his father in the eye. "I'm sorry, Father, but I just can't be a farmer for the rest of my life."

Daryn gave his son an understanding nod. "Son, I've known that for a long time now. Your destiny lies far, far away from any farm. This was never the life we wanted for you." He put a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. "Whatever it is you are meant to do, I know that you will be great."

"What will you do for help around here, though?" He'd been so excited that it hadn't even occurred to him that he was leaving his parents with one less set of hands to share the workload.

Eldra spoke before Daryn had a chance. "Now, don't you be worrying yourself about that. We have a bit of money left over from last year's crop to hire an extra pair of hands to finish out the season. You just worry about what you're to be wearing your first day of class. When do you start?"

The boy looked at the floor, scraping at an old stain with the toe of his boot. "Term starts in a week," he said sheepishly.

"A week!" she cried. "What are you doing here wasting time for, then? You've got to pack! And Daryn," she turned to her husband. "You need to book him on the next shuttle leaving for Coruscant."

Daryn smiled. "And just what are _you_ going to be doing, love?"

She returned his smile. "_I'll_ be making supper."

Three days later, the small family stood in the crowded spaceport just outside Theed, looking very much out of place in such a bustling scene. Eldra looked around at all the women wearing the latest fashion trends while Daryn was absorbed with the variety of transports constantly arriving and departing the terminal. Their son glanced nervously all around, not particularly liking the throngs of people everywhere or the unavoidable feeling of vulnerability that came with it. Few took notice of the simple family standing there. Those that did dismissed them just as quickly. The boy hated that, too. One day he would not be so easily forgotten, so underestimated. One day he would be so important that people would remember what it was like to see him for the first time. He would lead a life of significance. He never told anyone for fear of being called mad, but he had dreamt about it. And in that dream, countless people were chanting his name, worshiping him.

Since his transport wouldn't leave for another hour, the family found a spot to sit and wait and enjoy their final moments together as a family. The spaceport was very much like everything else on Naboo; it was both functional and beautiful to behold. It incorporated elaborate stonework and complex masonry everywhere. The massive stone columns that held up the ceiling were covered in climbing vines which displayed brightly colored flowers buzzing with insects. The entire complex was open, allowing the mild winds of the Southern Plains to carry the sweet scent of the cha'aka grass through the spaceport. As was customary on Naboo, artwork was everywhere. Dazzling statues of both stone and bronzium were displayed throughout and beautiful fountains could be found every few dozen meters. Tile mosaics covered the floors, which were kept remarkably clean. Everything together had an amazing calming effect.

Nevertheless, he was very nervous. He was young to be leaving home, let alone for a place such as Coruscant. It scared him, but it also excited him. He had been there only once before, several years ago when his parents' farm reaped an astonishing harvest. They made so much profit that season that Daryn took the three of them to the capital for a vacation. They toured everything and went everywhere.

When they toured the Republic Citadel, however, this child, this farmers' son, felt a powerful connection to the immense structure and the world around it. Something had clicked in him that day. He didn't know it, but it was there. He knew that one day he would return to that planet, would make it his home. He knew that he belonged there, amid the soaring spacescrapers and billions of people and the excitement of it all. And so now, years later, he was finally making it happen. Through his school, he had applied to the University of Coruscant. With his exemplary grades and his connections made during his mandatory term in the Legislative Youth Service, he was getting in on a full scholarship. Five years plus graduate school at the finest institution in the galaxy, all just handed to him. He would have been a fool not to accept, even though it meant leaving his home and his family behind. He would miss them, of course, but he knew there was no future for him on Naboo. His path led elsewhere and fate had given him the opportunity to take it. He couldn't pass it up.

He sat, taking in the Naboo landscape and the traditional architecture, for what may be the last time for many years to come. His thoughts were broken by the announcement of his flight's early arrival. He turned to his parents, their eyes sparkling with tears.

"Please," he said. "Don't cry." He hugged his mother, then his father.

"We are so proud of you," Eldra said. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her streaming eyes.

"No matter what, Son, you have honored this family." Daryn put his rough and calloused hand, a farmer's hand, on his son's shoulder. Their eyes locked and the boy had never felt more love for his father than in that moment.

"Thank you, Dad. I'll come back, I promise."

"Go on now, darling. Your flight is boarding." Eldra was wiping the tears from her eyes. She sniffled softly before kissing her son on the cheek. "You go and live the life you were meant to live. Be great and be strong. There is nothing you can't do now. You have been given a free pass in life. Use it well."

The boy nodded. "I love you both," he said, his voice strained by the tears he swore he wouldn't shed.

He turned and left them behind, never looking back for fear that he would lose his nerve. His throat burned and his eyes threatened to well up. _Be strong,_ he told himself. _You're no longer a child. You can do this._ He allowed himself to calm down. The sorrow in his heart turned again to excitement. He stopped thinking of what he was leaving behind and focused on what he was going toward. The galactic capital.

Coruscant.

A sprawling metropolis with a population of over one trillion. The city had long ago encompassed the entire planet. The only remaining vestiges of the original planet's surface were the tops of the Manarai Mountains, twin peaks breaking through the solid mass of duracrete and transparisteel. To see more of the planet's surface, one must travel deep down into the lowest levels of the city. These parts of the planet hadn't seen natural light in a thousand centuries. It was said that terrible, nightmarish creatures had evolved in the Coruscant underworld, things that even the bravest hunters in the galaxy shy away from seeking for their trophy cases. Very few who ventured that deep ever made it back to the civilized surface some four kilometers above the bedrock.

The young man gazed out across the glittering surface of the planet. Everywhere he looked, lines of speeders, transports, and haulers stretched from one horizon to the other. Spires thrust up into the sky, their tops disappearing into the clouds. A book sat on his lap. It was very old, leather bound with pages made of real paper. The cover was embossed with gold lettering: _The Golden Age of the Sith_ by Grodin Byr'tiis_._ Since he was a child, bedridden with illness, this book had been his favorite. It told the history of the Sith, masters of the Dark Side of the Force, an energy field capable of allowing otherwise ordinary beings to perform extraordinary feats. These Sith and their Dark Side made up the opposition of the Jedi. Their philosophies frightened the Jedi, so the Jedi destroyed them. That part had always infuriated him. He saw the wisdom of the Sith way, saw their strengths over the Jedi. He hated the Jedi for being so narrow-minded in their beliefs. Once, when he was around ten years old, he had a dream. He dreamt that he himself would take down the Jedi Order, erase it from the galaxy. Beside him stood a dark figure. But when he turned to see who the figure was, he woke up. He never had the dream again but it had been forever etched into his memory. It had frightened him, but had also aroused in him an unavoidable desire to discover the identity of the figure, to understand what the dream had meant, if anything.

Only when he heard the whine of the landing gear did he tear his eyes away from the city around him. They had arrived at his docking platform, a floating landing pad suspended two kilometers over open air. He gathered his things and prepared to exit the transport as soon as it landed. All that he had with him was his book, a small duffel, and a medium-sized trunk his father had given him with their family name stamped in block lettering: PALPATINE.

From the docking platform, he hailed a small personal transport.

"University of Coruscant, please," he said as he entered the speeder. "The student housing building."

The driver, an Ishi Tib, made a sound that he took to be an affirmative and set off into the flow of traffic.

His taxi wove expertly through the traffic lanes, the alien gunning the accelerator at every stretch of open skyway. As they flew past the Government District, the squat, mushroom-shaped Senate Rotunda caught his eye. Though he had first seen it years ago, it was as though he was seeing it through new eyes. He was in awe of it. He imagined what must go on inside that enormous dome, the history of it. For thousands of years, that very building had housed the Republic's most basic governmental element; the Senate. Hundreds of Supreme Chancellors had addressed the galaxy from that podium. Millions of senators had passed through those doors. He had even heard that a powerful Sith had once fought a Jedi Master in that very convocation chamber. So ancient was the building that civilizations had risen, been represented within its halls, and fallen into obscurity in its lifetime.

The boy could hardly breathe. His heart pounded hard in his chest. He felt so affected by the building that he knew in his heart of hearts that that was where he belonged.

_**Four years later**_

The boy, now twenty years old, was at the start of his fourth year at University. He was taking a very prestigious political science class whose waiting list was colloquially said to be as long as a Tatooine sand toad's tongue. He, however, had no worries about his acceptance. Since his first day, he knew politics was where he needed to be. He'd taken almost nothing but politically aimed classes, with the occasional art history or foreign language course thrown in to break the monotony.

It was the first day and everyone had taken their seats, Palpatine in the back, his preferred seat. Since he was a child, he had always felt he was somewhat sensitive to the Force. He could effectively and quite accurately "read" people. He could feel out his competition and take measures to ensure his success over theirs.

He was studying the class, targeting his most likely rivals, when the professor entered the classroom. Several students gasped as a very large and very ancient Hutt slithered up to the podium and began taking roll. What surprised them further was the fact that he spoke near perfect Basic. Though the Hutts were physically capable of speaking the language, most, even those who knew it, refused out of deeply ingrained pride. As a result, and due in no small part to the fact that the Hutts have their tiny hands in almost every enterprise in the galaxy, Huttese is the second most spoken language across the galactic plain.

"Good afternoon, class," the Hutt boomed. "I am Professor Kalok. In this class, you will learn the history—and the _essentials—_of galactic politics from the Ruusan Reformation, which I happen to have witnessed first hand as a Huttling, through this sitting Supreme Chancellor." He pounded his little fist on the podium for emphases. "Who better than a Hutt to teach the finer nuances of politics?" He spread his short arms, laughing at his own joke and seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one else shared in his laugh. It was a warm, deep sound. The class was confused, still unsure whether this was all a gag. It soon became apparent that it was not.

Professor Kalok pressed a button on his podium with a stubby finger. "The syllabus should come up on your desk screens momentarily," he said, the deep rumbling of his voice reverberating around the room. "Please read it silently and sign when you have finished. Let me know if you have any questions."

On cue, the syllabus popped up on Palpatine's monitor. He anxiously skimmed over the document, excited to see what they would be accomplishing this semester. He was surprised to find that very little class time would actually be spent in the class itself. According to the schedule, they would sit in during several meetings of the Senate, visit some of the top-ranking senators and listen to them speak, and even meet with Supreme Chancellor Thon at the end of the semester! Excitedly, he signed the line at the bottom of the screen and sent it back to the podium.

As the students read silently, the Hutt professor made his way slowly up and down each extra-wide aisle, learning everyone's faces. With datapad in hand, he occasionally addressed students by name, asking them a question or two. When he stopped as he came to Palpatine, the man's heart shot up into his throat.

"You," he said to the youth as softly as his deep timbre would allow. "I noticed you the moment I entered the room. You were the only student who did not look horrified at the prospect of having a Hutt professor."

The man swallowed hard and tried to sound unaffected. "Well, sir, to be perfectly honest, I _was_ rather surprised." Palpatine looked directly into the enormous eyes. The large magenta pools stared back at him. Light green slime oozed from the corners of the professor's mouth. His skin looked tough, like oil-coated greenish brown leather.

"You hid it very well, young—," he checked the roster in his hand, "—Palpatine. Have you considered actually entering into politics when you're older? It is a great skill for a politician to mask their true feelings about a subject. Their true face, if you will. It's called diplomacy."

"Actually, sir, I _have_ thought about it," Palpatine admitted excitedly. He'd never spoken openly with anyone about it before, but he felt strangely safe with the old Hutt. "Though I attribute it mostly to delusions of grandeur, I've often had hopes of someday becoming Supreme Chancellor." He suddenly reddened and looked down at his desk, feeling as though he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Hohoho!" The old Hutt chuckled deeply. Palpatine didn't sense this was in any way condescending, however. "Young man," said Kalok, placing an oily hand on Palpatine's shoulder, "if that is your dream, let no one take it from you."

Palpatine again looked into the deep pools of the professor's eyes. "I won't, sir. Never."

The entire first week of class was fairly boring. Professor Kalok had them learning a slew of political terms and vocabulary, most in a dead language used only in politics and law. Palpatine, of course, flew through these assignments and was regularly hungry for more. Kalok took notice of the young man's enthusiasm and obvious natural abilities.

One day, Kalok asked Palpatine to stay a moment after class. After the room had emptied, Kalok placed a plump hand on the young man's shoulder. "Next semester, I suggest you take a more difficult class. Professor Grej'akk'serrit has a class on advanced political strategy. I believe you would find it most helpful on your someday quest for office." He gave Palpatine's shoulder a squeeze. "I believe you will be someone, one day. I have something of a knack for reading people; you have a gift, young man. You have every chance of reaching your dreams."

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot coming from you." Palpatine grinned widely. "That was Professor Grej'akk—?" He fumbled over the strange name.

"Grej'akk'serrit. He's on level four-eighteen of this building," said the Hutt. "I'll speak to him today and recommend you to him for his class next semester."

"Thank you, sir," said Palpatine again. "I won't forget this, sir." He gathered his things and hurried out of the classroom, eager to look up this professor. When he got back to his small flat, he immediately went for his computer terminal. He typed in the name "Grej'akk'serrit" and submitted the query.

Instantly, a shocking blue face popped up on the screen, giving the Palpatine a hard stare with its glowing red eyes. His hair, an odd blue-black, was pulled back into a tight pony-tail. His age couldn't be judged, as he was a species Palpatine wasn't familiar with. He looked, all things considered, Human. So with that in mind, Palpatine guessed he was somewhere in his mid-fifties.

According to his very short biography, Professor Grej'akk'serrit, who went by "Jakks," had never revealed his species or homeworld and refused to talk about his past. He had taught at the University of Coruscant campus on Carida as well as the Aldera Royal Academy of Alderaan before coming to Coruscant twelve years before. He had written countless papers on the political strategies of various politicians over the years and was apparently one of the galaxy's foremost experts on the history of politics and political tactics. The more he read (and there wasn't much) the more he longed to be in that class. This professor sounded like the exact thing he needed.

On the page with the professor's bio were several links to organizations he was a part of. One of them was geared toward matching students with politicians to campaign for, giving them much needed experience for their own eventual careers. He scanned the page and found something that might just fit him; there was a man, a Muun named Hego Damask, who was running for senator of Coruscant in the next election in two years. Palpatine saw this as the perfect chance for him to really get into the game and learn something first-hand. He eagerly entered his name and submitted it, pledging his services to the campaign that would begin in six months' time. He couldn't wait!

Months passed and he scored at the top of all of his classes. He had visited his home on Naboo for the first time since arriving on Coruscant during his end-of-term break. He was now halfway through his second semester and fully involved in Damask's senatorial campaign. He had gone to every rally, every public event, and every dinner with potential sponsors. He had gotten to know Damask personally and felt that the older Muun had taken a liking to him. To Palpatine, though, he was more concerned with making Damask a contact than a friend. In politics, it always helped to have connections high up.

His first meeting with Damask had been brief. It was Palpatine's first time at the campaign headquarters and he was being shown around by one the more senior members. The senate hopeful had made a short appearance, thanking all of his supporters in person. He was middle-aged for a Muun but approaching elderly for a Human, at least twenty years older than Palpatine's father. As with all Muun, he was tall and spindly, almost fragile in appearance. But he never gave the impression of a weak being. If anything, the man radiated great waves of strength that Palpatine thought he could almost feel like an electric tingling on his skin.

He wore high end but not flashy clothing. His only piece of flare was his hip cape of elegant shimmersilk, which was intricately embroidered with strange lettering in gold and silver thread. His face was long and thin and entirely hairless. His smooth grayish skin had an almost amphibian quality to it and his facial features, typical of Muuns, were difficult to read. What struck the young man most, however, were the Muun's eyes; they were the blackest eyes Palpatine had ever seen. He found himself somewhat unsettled by them.

Damask went through the small group of his supporters, shaking all their hands and thanking them for their time and effort. When he came upon Palpatine, he paused a heartbeat longer than he had with anyone else. He looked the young man in the eye and gave him what may have been a quizzical look before continuing on to the next supporter. Before leaving a short while later, Damask caught Palpatine's eye for a brief moment. He gave Palpatine the same look as before then left without a second glance.

It was weeks before he had seen Damask again, who had been touring around the planet campaigning night and day with a fervor some rumored to be unnatural and beyond explanation even for a species with the endurance afforded them by their three hearts. Palpatine had become evermore involved in the campaign as the days went by. He found himself arguing with members of the opposition, almost coming to blows with one man. He began speaking for the senate hopeful at political rallies held at his school. They were nothing official, but they served as platforms for him to get the word out to more potential voters, donors, and volunteers. Before long, Damask's support had almost doubled, most newcomers being students brought in by Palpatine's increasingly charismatic speeches.

"A new era is coming!" he said during one rally. "Hego Damask knows this and is prepared to represent this planet through the tides of change and into a better future!" He stood at a simple podium in one of the University's many courtyards, his voice carrying out into the ears (or whatever appendages served as ears for some) of a modest audience. He could feel the audience's energy fueling him to continue.

"Too long has the capital been represented by weak beings. Damask _will_ change this planet for the better. All he asks is for your faith in him. Vote Damask!" He ended by punching a triumphant fist in the air. The crowd roared for what seemed like an hour. Palpatine just listened. That sound was payment enough; throngs of people driven into a frenzy by _his_ words, _his_ feelings. He was undeniably in his element now.

Barely two weeks before the election, Palpatine decided he would visit his parents back on Naboo. Something told him it was important to go now, despite the election being so close.

Now in graduate school and involved full-time with the campaign, it had been almost two years since he'd seen his home and he had so much to tell them. He and Damask had grown very close over the last year and a half. The wise Muun was like a second father to Palpatine. He couldn't wait to tell his parents all about the fascinating man.

He was at the campaign headquarters, standing outside of Damask's door. Damask had made it habit to spend long hours locked in his office now that the election was so near. No one was allowed to disturb him. But surely he would want to hear that Palpatine was leaving. He couldn't just take off without a word. He knocked on the door. There was a rustling sound, like heavy clothing, then the very distinctive sound of something being closed. A moment later, the door opened, revealing an aggravated Damask.

"Oh, it's you," he said when he saw Palpatine, his face softening. "What is it you need, lad?" As was typical among Muuns, his voice was somewhat high and nasally, verging on a constant whine.

"I didn't disturb you, did I, sir?" asked Palpatine, who tried to peek past the older man into the dark office.

"No, no," Damask shook his large boxy head. "I was just…" he trailed off. "What is it you need?" he repeated.

"Oh," Palpatine shook his head, suddenly remembering why he'd needed to speak with him. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm going home to Naboo to visit my parents for a few days."

"Alright, son. I hope you have a wonderful time," he laid a spindly hand on Palpatine's shoulder, his bony fingers giving a surprisingly strong squeeze. "I'm sure your parents are very proud of you. I know I am."

"Thank you, sir. Well, I better go, sir. My transport leaves in an hour and I don't want to be late."

"Yes, of course. Go on. Have a good trip. I think we'll manage to continue on without you for a short time," he gave Palpatine a warm, lipless smile.

Palpatine laughed. "Yes, sir. Good-bye."

"Farewell, young man. Farewell."

The entire trip home, Palpatine had been looking forward to seeing his parents, but now, he wanted nothing more than to go back to Coruscant. He couldn't explain his sudden change of heart, but something was telling him that Naboo held nothing for him anymore. Over the last several years at school, he'd learned to trust those feelings and at the moment, they were telling him that something was very, very wrong.

Palpatine looked out the viewport next to his seat. They were coming up on Theed Spaceport, the largest port on Naboo. It looked exactly the same as it did the last time he'd seen it, the last time he'd seen his parents. It should have comforted him, but it just made his bad feeling worse. Now more than ever, he knew something was terribly wrong. Even from a kilometer away, Palpatine could see the huge mass of people crowding around one of the terminals. _His_ terminal.

As the transport neared, he could see the scene in more detail. It appeared as though a section of the open air structure had collapsed; smoke wafted up from the rubble and rose in a brown-black ribbon high into the cloudless azure Naboo sky. Fire and rescue ships hovered over the debris, spraying the area with a chemical retardant. He saw one last detail before the transport turned to land in an alternate terminal, something that he would never forget as long as he lived: a single green lightsaber blade in the crowd.

Luggage in hand, Palpatine sped toward the damaged terminal against the heavy flow of passengers hurrying the other way. It was on the opposite end of the spaceport from where he had landed, his shuttle redirected away from the damaged terminal. As he neared, the acrid smell of smoke and chemicals assaulted his nose and eyes. Several ground fire controllers rushed past him, their equipment clinking loudly. He grabbed one of them by the arm.

"What happened here?" asked Palpatine. The controller's badge read "Grimm"

The man shook himself loose of Palpatine's grip. "A Jedi was after some smugglers. They opened fire. He defected the shots with his lightsaber, but they ricocheted and hit a gas line. The whole section of the terminal blew."

"Was anyone hurt?" Palpatine asked urgently. Things were rapidly getting worse.

"The smugglers and a couple bystanders are confirmed dead. We're digging through the rubble for more. It's bad. If I were you, I'd find your people and go home." He turned to leave, but Palpatine grabbed his arm again.

"Listen, son, I have to—"

"What are their names?" Palpatine said quietly.

"What?" The fire controller leaned closer.

"The bystanders who were killed. What were their names?" he repeated.

The man grabbed his comm off his belt and raised it to his lips. "Captain? Do we have an ID on those vics yet?"

A moment later, a man's voice answered back. _"Copy. Vics are Jaren Syler, smuggler; Gavet Korwin, smuggler; Yul Redek, smuggler; Daryn and Eldra Palpatine, civilian farmers. They're the only bystander casualties so far." _The line clicked off.

Grimm noticed a change in Palpatine's expression. "You okay, son?"

He couldn't believe it. His parents, dead. A Jedi to blame. _Jedi_.

"Daryn and Eldra Palpatine are my parents," he said, seemingly disconnected from reality. His parents, dead. Jedi. It all seemed to swirl in his head. None of it made sense.

"Oh, son, I'm sorry. Maybe you should come with me." He put his arm around Palpatine's shoulder and started guiding him away from the terminal.

"No!" Palpatine twisted himself loose. "I want to see the Jedi who murdered my parents."

"Now, son. Let's not be hasty," the man said, holding up his hands in a defensive posture, as if he feared the young man might attack him. "No one was murdered and if you want to place blame, put it with the smugglers. They fired the shots." He could see the hate filling the young man's blue eyes.

The Jedi was reckless and it had led to the death of his only family. Palpatine wanted to see the person responsible. "Take me to him _now_!" He let his fury and his anguish fuel him. He felt a molten pit of anger in his chest rising to his throat, where it unleashed in the form of a primal, animalistic scream. Eyes squeezed shut, he felt what seemed to be an immense release of pressure and heard a startled grunt followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. He opened his eyes to see the fire controller picking himself up off the floor, his nose bleeding. Several people nearby had stopped mid-stride to stare at the developing scene.

Grimm, seemingly unaware of the blood dripping down his chin onto his uniform, looked at Palpatine as if for the first time, grabbed his arm, and said, "C'mon. Let's go find that Jedi."

The devastation was surreal, as though it were happening in a dream. Palpatine's eyes surveyed the rubble, though what he was searching for, he didn't know. Surely, the…_bodies, _he thought painfully, would have been removed already. Still, he allowed his eyes to wander angrily around the broken terminal until they fell upon a young human male in the unmistakable garb of the Jedi Knights speaking to fire controller Grimm. He stood just under two meters, his long black hair falling over his shoulders and disheveled from his recent scuffle.

"You!" Palpatine snarled, a guttural, feral sound. The Jedi turned to face him, no doubt taken aback by the sudden wave of fury that washed over him.

"Master Palpatine? I am Jedi Knight Sifo-Dyas. I've just been made aware that the bystanders who were killed—"

"_Murdered!"_

"—were your parents," finished Dyas, not missing a beat. "Their loss was regrettable and I extend to you my most heartfelt apologies." He made a move to put a hand on Palpatine's shoulder.

Palpatine glared daggers at the young Jedi, who appeared barely older than he was himself. "Do not touch me," he snarled viciously. His hands were balled into fists, itching to lash out and clasp the Jedi's throat.

"I understand how difficult this must be for you," said Dyas, attempting unsuccessfully to use a Jedi calming technique on the upset young man. Something was wrong, the Jedi noted with a frown. It was as if the Force wanted nothing to do with him. Every pulse of peaceful energy he sent out simply broke before they could reach the man as though encountering some counter force, like waves crashing into a reef before hitting the shore.

"You will pay for this crime, Jedi," Palpatine threatened quietly. "It may not be today, but on the souls of my parents, I swear you will pay." With a final venomous glare, he turned and walked away. He purchased a return ticket for Coruscant and waited for the next available transport off planet. He was now alone in the universe.

_No_, he thought. _Damask_. The man was like a father to him. He looked up to him, aspired to be like him. He was like family. _He's all I've got._

Night never truly fell on Coruscant. Light streamed into the room in thin slanted rays through the partially closed blinds. Sitting in quiet meditation, a Sith Lord suddenly stifled a gasp. His meditation had just been interrupted by a fury unlike any he'd ever felt. Somewhere in the galaxy, a creature had been born into the Dark Side more powerful than any Sith Lord to date, perhaps more powerful than any being had ever been in the history of the galaxy.

The Dark Lord's head was still reeling, still feeling the agony, the rage, the primal anger that had just sheared through the fabric of the Force. The Force spelled out a name in his mind: Palpatine. No doubt the Jedi felt it, too. He would need to act quickly. He settled himself back into meditation. He had much to think about.

It had been days since Palpatine had returned and he still refused to talk to anyone. He skipped all of his classes and even failed to attend two of Damask's support rallies. After the sixth day, Damask visited the grief-stricken youth at his apartment.

He stepped up to the door, pressed the chime, and waited for a response. When he got none, he knocked lightly.

"Go away," came a weak voice from the other side.

"Son, it's Hego Damask. May I come in?"

A brief moment passed before the door opened. The man standing opposite him looked terrible. His hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled. His skin looked pallid and seemed to sag from his bones. He looked exhausted, his eyes red and raw and surrounded by dark bags.

"Please, sir, come in. I'm sorry I haven't been in for a few days. There are just some things—"

"—you need to work out. I understand completely," Damask finished for him. "That is the reason I came by." The Muun towered over the young man. "I just wanted to tell you how very sorry I was to hear about your loss. I want you to understand that, if you ever need anything, you know where you can reach me. And you can take off as much time as you feel you need. It's just that…" He paused.

"What is it, sir?" asked the young man. Damask's tone implied that there was more he had to say.

He looked Palpatine long in the eye before answering. "There is an important rally this afternoon in Citadel Plaza and you are my most charismatic speaker. While I do not want to pressure you into speaking, I would see it as a personal favor that will not go overlooked. And, if I may be frank. you look as though you could use the distraction."

For a long while, neither man said anything. Then Damask turned to leave.

"I'll do it, sir," Palpatine mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

Palpatine looked him in the eye and spoke more clearly. "I'll speak at your rally today."

Damask smiled. "Thank you, son. This one could win me the election. After today, both of our lives may change forever. For the better, I promise you."

Three hours later, Palpatine stood in front of the largest congregation of beings he'd ever seen. But the numbers didn't bother him. He had quickly become accustomed to speaking in front of vast crowds of people and that day was no different. Except that this day, this was no ordinary rally. He stood in Citadel Plaza, an enormous open plain lined with hundreds of statues, all of them important figures in the Republic's history. Overlooking the plaza was the heart of Coruscant, the Republic Citadel. The tallest, grandest structure on the planet, some say the galaxy. It was the home of the galactic government. And that day, several important members of the government would be sitting in on the rally. This event would involve every candidate on the ballot for the Coruscanti seat in the Senate. This was the big one. And it was Damask's turn.

A large dais had been constructed in the center of the plaza, upon which sat all eight candidates and their representatives. During these rallies, the representatives spoke first, then the candidates themselves. This was where Palpatine excelled. He could work up a crowd with his charisma until they were in a frenzy. Then Damask would use Palpatine's energy as a platform and the crowd would be won.

"For too long have we stood by and let Senator Garyl fail to relay our voice to the Senate, instead allowing himself to sit comfortably in the pockets of the Corporate Alliance and the Trade Federation! For too long has Coruscant been without a voice of its own! Damask is that voice that we so desperately need!" The masses erupted with cheers. He pounded his fist on the podium for emphasis, his voice booming out over the crowd. He tried to ignore the giant images of himself being projected by floating holoscreens all over the plaza.

He paused a moment, waiting for the crowd to settle down. He surveyed the scene, as he always did during his rallies. He saw beings of every species he knew and some he didn't.

"As Senator," Palpatine continued, "Damask will fight for the increasing number of impoverished Coruscanti. He will not be swayed by bureaucrats or corrupted by favors. He will fight to lower taxes on the middle class—" And that's when he noticed the small troupe of Jedi patrolling the edges of the crowd. There were four of them; two Humans, an Ithorian, and an Ishi Tib. Based on their ages, Palpatine guessed that they were two Masters with their Padawans, though he couldn't be sure. One can usually pick a Padawan out of a group by their Apprentice braid, but the younger of the Humans, a dark skinned, muscular man, was completely bald. None of that mattered, though. Palpatine hated them all.

A fire burned in his eyes and in his heart as he thought of his parents. At that moment, he would have liked nothing better than to hurl bolts of pure hatred at each and every one of them, striking them dead where they stood. He kept his composure, however, letting his hatred fuel his speech, barely noticing that the dark-skinned Human had suddenly snapped his head up to the dais as though he were looking for something.

"No other candidate, including the incumbent, can offer what Damask offers Coruscant. His native planet is Muunilinst, but his heart lies here in the Capital. His campaign has no corporate sponsors, and in turn no favors owed. He is not at the mercy of large corporations and their money. He is the best, nay, the _only_ candidate for this office! So next week, when you are at your polling stations, vote for Damask and be heard!" He raised his arms in triumph as the plaza exploded with cheers and applause. He took his seat next to Damask, who stared at him as though he were a complete stranger. Then a tight smile slowly spread across his face.

"That was wonderful, son," he droned in his high buzzing voice. "I don't see how we can lose now." He placed a kind hand on Palpatine's shoulder. "I would like to see you at my apartment this evening. Five Hundred Republica. I have the northeastern penthouse. Come around eight. I've big plans for you, my boy."

Before the young man could utter a word, Damask rose to his feet and approached the podium to address the still roaring crowd. Palpatine's heart was pounding so loud in his ears that it blocked out the noise from the rally. What could Damask want? Was he going to give him an official position on his staff were he to win? This was exactly the chance that Palpatine needed to take advantage of if he was ever going to become Supreme Chancellor. _You have to start somewhere._

He had the rest of the day to contemplate what it was exactly that Damask wanted. He looked so proud at the rally, he could only imagine it would be something good. Palpatine reflected on what Damask said back in his apartment. _After today, both of our lives may change forever._

Traffic in the richest sector on the planet was far less congested than other parts of the city. As Palpatine flew through the speeder lanes, he couldn't help but feel self-conscious about his less-than-high-class transportation. All around him flew the newest and most expensive models to come out of SorenAir, Arkayn Industries, and Tenebrous Inc. factories. He'd bought his decades-old SoroSuub for dirt cheap and it ran like a crippled eopie. The fact was that the bottle of Alderaanian wine on the passenger seat beside him cost nearly twice what the speeder had. But, it got him to where he needed to go and back again, so he hadn't felt the need for anything new. Now, he was beginning to change his mind.

In this sector of the city, architecture was much more focused on aesthetics than the rest of Coruscant, with the exception, maybe, of the Government District. This was where all of the politicians, sports stars, and holodrama actors lived. Only the richest of the rich could afford to survive here. And, directly ahead of him, his destination, the building that only the richest of _them_ could afford: Five Hundred Republica.

He circled the building several times, nervous about his meeting with Damask. He toyed with the idea of just turning around and going home. _No,_ he thought. _You need this. He's going to offer you a position on his staff after he wins. _He circled one more time then brought the speeder down on the penthouse's private landing pad.

Palpatine glanced down at his chrono. It was eight sharp. He grabbed the bottle beside him and hopped out of the speeder. Damask must've been waiting for him in the shadows, because he greeted Palpatine almost the instant his feet touched the ground and he hadn't seen the tall Muun when he was landing.

"Good evening, son," said Damask warmly. The brisk breeze so high up tugged at the politician's fine robes.

Palpatine handed the senate hopeful the bottle of fine Alderaanian wine. He wasn't sure of the protocol in a situation such as this. He figured a gift couldn't hurt.

"I wasn't sure if I was supposed to bring anything so I stopped off on the way here." He was beyond nervous.

Damask smiled and accepted the bottle in his spider-like hands. "A gift was not necessary, young man. But it is appreciated all the same. Thank you." He inspected the bottle. Exquisite Alderaanian wine, aged seven hundred years. A rare vintage. Its worn label still showed the Organa family crest. "This is very expensive. You really should let me compensate you," he said as he gave Palpatine a firm look.

Palpatine turned red with embarrassment, matching his auburn hair. "Oh, no, sir. Really, I couldn't take your money." The truth was, Palpatine had spent every last credit he'd earned in the last three months on that bottle.

"Who said anything about money?" Damask's tone, once warm and inviting, now took on a colder, more mysterious edge. Even his customarily high, nasally voice had seemingly taken on a deeper timbre. He looked Palpatine directly in the eyes, the brief moment passing as slowly as a lifetime.

This puzzled Palpatine. _What is _that_ supposed to mean?_ he wondered, wide-eyed and confused.

Damask's expression softened and he swept an inviting and stick-thin arm toward the door. "Come, my boy. We've much to discuss."

Five minutes and two glasses of the strong emerald-colored wine later, Damask broke the deafening silence that had consumed them.

"No doubt you're wondering why I've asked you here," he began cautiously, sizing the young man up with his beady black eyes.

"I _had_ wondered, sir. It sounded important." Palpatine tossed back the rest of his wine and settled back in his seat. This was it. He was finally going to find out what was in store for him. He took a deep breath and listened eagerly.

"Indeed it is. Far more than you realize," Damask said, his voice very solemn. "I am going to share with you a secret," he started slowly. "One so dangerous that if anyone were to find out, we both might be killed for it." He stopped a moment to let the words sink in before continuing. "I will give you this chance to walk away. Away from me, away from my campaign, and away from my secret. You will be safe and I will not contact you again." He paused long enough for the young man to comprehend what he'd just been told. "I am sorry for forcing this decision on you. I am. But it is necessary, believe me. I must ask that you choose now."

Palpatine's mind reeled. What could the secret be? Was it something illegal? What was the old Muun involving him in? Was it worth putting himself in danger, possibly _mortal_, to find out? He'd grown very close to Damask over the many months and years; grown to trust him. He was like a father to him, more so now that his own father was dead. He decided.

"I trust you, sir," he said earnestly. "And you can trust me. You can tell me your secret."

Damask smiled broadly, the smile of a man who has just acquired a new possession beyond conventional concepts of worth. He knew then that his faith in the boy wasn't ill placed.

"No doubt you know all about the Jedi," Damask began.

At the mention of the Jedi, a brief wave of anger rolled off of the young man. His muscles visibly tensed and his expression turned sour.

Damask continued, encouraged by the response. "But you may not know of those who opposed them thousands of years ago. A group called—"

"The Sith," answered Palpatine softly. "They were slaughtered by the _Jedi_ for their philosophy."

Damask nodded, impressed by the boy's knowledge in ancient history. "Yes, that is correct. You see, they feared the Sith because they harnessed the Dark Side of the Force and they feared the Dark Side because they did not understand it. The Jedi do not trust things they don't understand, you see."

Palpatine had been telling himself that very thing since reading the book that had come to be his favorite as a child, _The Golden Age of the Sith_. It felt good to hear someone else validate his own opinions. However, he was still completely baffled as to where this conversation was heading.

"My _birth_ name," Damask continued, "is Hego Damask, but that is but the mask I wear. My _true _name," he stared hard into Palpatine's eyes, "my _Sith_ name, is Darth Plagueis."

Palpatine's eyes widened in shock and his heart skipped a beat. He stifled a gasp. "Darth—? _You're_ a Sith? But-but they've been extinct for a thousand years!" Palpatine's surprised voice took on a razor edge. "The Jedi saw to that!"

Damask shook his head. He was impressed at the boy's knowledge. "Not extinct, boy. _Dormant_. Once, the Sith were many. But a thousand years ago, the Jedi defeated them at the Seventh Battle of Ruusan. They believed the Sith had all been wiped out in that one fell swoop."

"But they were wrong," said Palpatine, stating the obvious. His voice was soft, almost dreamlike. A smile formed on his lips. Like a child hearing his favorite bedtime story, he leaned in closer.

"Yes, they were. One remained: Darth Bane, who had himself orchestrated the Jedi defeat of the other Sith. He rewrote the Sith Order. To remain hidden from the Jedi and keep the Dark Side concentrated and powerful, the Sith would only practice in twos: a Master and an Apprentice. I," he said, placing a long-fingered hand on his own chest, "am the Master. I wish for you," he placed his hand now on Palpatine's shoulder, "to be the Apprentice." His hand felt unnaturally cold even through Palpatine's layers of clothing. But there was power there, too. And faint buzz just beyond the edges of his perception at the point of contact.

Palpatine was in awe. A representative of the group he had idolized from childhood had not only informed him of their continued presence in the galaxy, but that he could _join_ them. There were no words in Galactic Basic to describe how he felt. None save one.

"Yes." The word escaped his lips barely more than a whisper, but there was power in it. That single syllable would change his life forever in ways he could scarcely comprehend yet.


	2. Chapter 2

"My boy, you have just stepped into a world larger than you have ever known." Damask—_Plagueis_—patted the young man's shoulder proudly. "Congratulations and thank you."

"Sir—er, _Master_, it is beyond an honor," the new Sith breathed. "Believe me when I say my heart is in this." He blinked and suddenly, the Muun's eyes had changed. No longer were they the deep pools of black that had always unnerved young Palpatine. They were now sickly yellow, rimmed with blood red, and they seemed to emit a faint glow in the dim light. "Your eyes!" he cried.

Plagueis grinned. "The Dark Side can have a number of physical manifestations on the organic body of its users. The change in eye color is only one of them. I have the ability to change my eye color to whichever I like. I rather enjoy the unsettling effect my black eyes have on people," said with a cruel smirk.

"I see…," said Palpatine. He had so much to learn.

"You do not seem to need to be convinced of the Jedi's misguided attempt to do the right thing," Plagueis commented, taking great interest in his new Apprentice's apparently inherent hatred of the rival order. "What has made you so open to the ideals of the Sith?"

"To be honest, sir—_Master_, I have always felt the Jedi were wrong in their chosen path." He became grave. "But recent events have motivated me to seek the destruction of every single one of the self-righteous, entitled Kath hounds." He stopped a moment; Plagueis shot him a confused look. "I told you that my parents died when part of the Theed spaceport collapsed," he said. "What I didn't tell you was that a Jedi was responsible." Anger came off of him in waves so strong, Plagueis needn't be Force sensitive to feel them. "He said that their loss was 'regrettable.'"

"Do you know the name of this Jedi?" the Sith Lord asked his Apprentice.

Palpatine nodded. "Sifo-Dyas."

"Never forget that name, Apprentice," Plagueis instructed. "You will have your revenge." Plagueis secretly thanked this Jedi for delivering to the Sith the means with which to destroy their order.

Palpatine's eyes glistened with tears, narrowing in rage. "Yes," he said. "I will."

Plagueis closed his eyes a moment. "I feel your anger. It gives you power, focus. Embrace your fury. Turn it back toward the Jedi. Take control of your anger, do not let it take control of you. Too many Sith have been corrupted by their own anger. They let it consume them and it destroyed them. It led to the near destruction of the entire order many times over."

Palpatine nodded. "When do we begin my training, sir?" He corrected himself, "I mean, Master."

"Immediately, my Apprentice. I have waited too long as it is to take on a pupil. We must begin now."

"_Where_ do we start, Master?" Palpatine inquired.

Plagueis smiled, proud of his new pupil's enthusiasm. "We must begin with the Force," he told his Apprentice. "You must learn its every aspect if you intend to wield it as a Master." He poured them both another glass of wine without touching the bottle. "How much do you know about the Force?"

Palpatine shook his head, eyes glued to the bottle as it moved of its own accord. "Almost nothing," he mumbled, engrossed with the demonstration. "I know it allows one to do extraordinary things, but beyond what appear to be parlor tricks," he nodded at the floating bottle, "I don't know."

"The Force," Plagueis began to explain, "is an energy field that only a scant few are able to tap into and utilize. It infuses all matter in the universe. It creates life and is in turn created by life." He paused. "And by death.

"The Force is seen by the Jedi as a gift granted to them in order to better the galaxy. They view the Force as a two-sided coin, Light and Dark, Good and Evil. Their way is the way of weakness," he scoffed. "They willingly cut themselves off from half of the Force, stubbornly refusing to explore the might of the Dark Side. They strip themselves of their emotions, do not allow themselves to feel for anyone or anything. Attachment is forbidden. They are not allowed to love or hate.

"But the Sith understand that the root of the Force's power is in your emotions. Fear, hatred, anger, even love. _Passion_. These are powerful emotions that fuel the Dark Side. They give you strength."

"I've felt it," Palpatine interjected. "On Naboo, there was a fire controller. He wouldn't take me to the Jedi who killed my parents. I got angry and this—I can't even describe it. It felt like my anger was just released out of my chest. The next thing I knew, he was on the ground."

"Ah," Plagueis said with a nod. "Yes, that would explain what I felt that night," he said, finally understanding the nova-sized explosion of rage he had felt while Palpatine was away just a week earlier. "Your power must be great, indeed, for me to have sensed your anger like that from so far away."

"Really?" asked Palpatine, surprised. "I mean, I always felt a little _different_ from everyone else. I could sense things about them. But if I'm so strong in the Force, why didn't the Jedi steal me away from my family when I was born?"

"Because you are special, my new Apprentice," said Plagueis. "When I first met you, I felt something in you that I had never felt before. You were a void in the Force. It was as though the Force bent around you, cloaking you from my perception. I could sense every mind in the room with the exception of yours."

Palpatine's eyes widened. "That's why you gave me such an odd look! Are you saying I was never taken by the Jedi because...they never knew I existed?"

Plagueis nodded. "You might have lived your entire life without coming into contact with someone capable of sensing this…anomaly. But the Dark Side has brought you to me. Your power was buried so deep, it took your rage at the Jedi who killed your parents to bring it into the open. That event was a catalyst. Once the power within you was given an outlet, it could no longer be retained. Now when you stand before me, I feel an incredible fountain of strength. You are by far the most powerful being within the Force that I have ever encountered. And I have personally shaken hands with Master Yoda." He warned, "You must learn to shield your presence. If I can sense you, so too can the Jedi."

"I—I don't know what to say. I only hope I can live up to my potential." Palpatine's pale face flushed red. He'd always felt he was destined for greatness, but this was beyond any of his wildest dreams.

"I am confident you will, boy. Here," he said, making a subtle hand motion, "Let me demonstrate for you what the Force is capable of."

The wine bottle rose from the table, levitating in midair. It tilted and poured the remaining deep green liquid into Palpatine's glass as the young man looked on in awe. When it righted itself, it began to spin. It spun so fast, the label became a light blur against the dark brown glass. Then something happened that Palpatine didn't expect. Thin wisps of smoke rose up from the bottle, the rapid spin causing the smoke to twist into a tight braid. The paper label was burning. Then Palpatine saw why; the bottle itself was heating up, starting to glow red hot. The air shimmered from the heat. When the glass became soft and malleable, its spinning motion flattened it into a disk. Then the sides folded up. Still spinning rapidly, the glass changed its shape from a disk to a sphere.

As the sphere formed, it expanded. Within a few moments, it was a meter across. The spinning slowed, the glass darkened as it cooled. Gently, the glass ball lowered itself down on the sitting room table. Palpatine kept his eyes locked on the fragile glass orb, shocked by what he just saw.

Plagueis caught the young man's amazement. "That was but a tiny taste of what the Force can do. The power of the Force is infinite. One only needs to unlock the secrets to using it."

"And you will teach me these secrets?" asked Palpatine eagerly.

"A great deal of the secrets one can only learn through time and experience, but yes, I will set you on the path," his new Master told him. "I sense that one day, you will be an incredible power in this universe." Plagueis stopped a moment. "But I must be certain," he said finally. "Follow me." The spindly Muun rose and gestured for Palpatine to follow.

Obediently, Palpatine got up and fell into step behind his new teacher. "Where are we going, sir—er, _Master_."

"To the future," Plagueis said somewhat cryptically. "We are going to the future. _Your_ future," he said dramatically. "Hopefully," he muttered quietly to himself. While he foresaw great power in the boy's future, it deeply concerned him that he could not see anything more specific. This was a potential danger to him. But he was already beyond his species' middle age. Too old to continue on without an Apprentice and very nearly too old to find and train another should young Palpatine prove inadequate. _No_, he thought to himself. _This is the one._

Plagueis led the young man through the enormous apartment. Every wall was adorned with artwork from dozens of worlds. Sculptures stood in every corner. Mixed in were various Sith artifacts he had acquired over the years. If one were to combine the values of everything in the apartment, the amount would be staggering. Enough to feed an entire planet. One frieze, carved from solid stone and depicting an ancient and epic battle between what looked like Jedi and Sith, took up an entire wall. He'd acquired it on the fourth moon of the gas giant Yavin. It was a particular favorite of his.

As they wove deeper into the interior of the apartment, the artwork ceased. The walls became bare. It now began to resemble the inside of a starship. Heavy duranium panels covered the walls and floor. They entered a hallway that, to Palpatine, appeared to be a dead end. There was a single sconce at the end of the hall, illuminating a bare section of wall. They continued to walk toward the dead end; Palpatine dared not to ask the obvious question. They walked until he was certain Plagueis would ram his flat nose straight into it. However, the Muun stopped abruptly, centimeters from the wall, staring into it. He placed a hand on a panel that, to Palpatine, didn't appear any more special than the others, and spoke loudly and clearly in a language he was unfamiliar with.

"_Darthae Plageus, Luexemo lordo v Sithu._" He removed his hand from the wall and instantly, the section retracted, revealing a hidden turbolift.

Plagueis turned to Palpatine and bade him enter. Palpatine obliged and was followed by Plagueis. The door slid shut and the lift immediately began to descend. After a few moments, it came to a halt. Palpatine could only guess how fast they had been going but he judged that they were now well below the planet's bedrock.

Silently, the door slid open and the two stepped out into a room that rivaled the senate rotunda in size. The most astonishing thing that Palpatine noticed was that it appeared to have been excavated out of the solid bedrock itself. Its floor was smooth and polished, though scuffed and damaged in places. The floor was marked everywhere with a series of concentric circles that seemed to radiate out from the center. The circles were intersected by lines at odd angles that crisscrossed over the entire floor. He saw many deep gouge marks in the polished stone. The furrows seemed _burned_ into the rock, like something unimaginably hot had raked across it and vaporized the stone. Across the chamber on the far wall, he saw what appeared to be several powered down droids, the overhead lights glinting dully off their alloy skin. He also saw a pile of debris that appeared to be no less than four droids of the same model. They were horribly mangled and shattered. The edges of some of the pieces seemed to be _melted_.

Palpatine quickly sobered himself, having been looking around with mouth agape. "Master, what is this place?"

"This is where I come to train," answered Plagueis. "And it is where I will train you. This is where you will learn the art of the lightsaber as well as the more…_physical_…Force powers. This is where the Jedi will fall and the Sith shall rise again." Plagueis made his way to the center of the arena. His footsteps echoed off the high domed ceiling. He raised his arms and motioned all around him.

"Isn't it marvelous?" he asked. "Four hundred meters below the surface, right under the Jedi's very noses. It has seen the training of six previous Dark Lords. It was constructed in secret over two hundred years ago by Darth Lycan."

Palpatine stepped up next to his new master. "This is wonderful, Master. When do I begin my training here?"

"Not quite yet, my young Apprentice. You must first condition your mind before you can condition your body. This will be your playground, where you will come into your abilities. And then you will be named a Darth, heir to all the power of the Dark Side." He smiled. "I'm pleased to see that you are anxious to learn the ways of the Sith. But first," he held up a long finger, "you must learn to harness the Force. You must learn the very basic skills common to all Force users, Jedi and Sith alike. These are your Core powers."

Palpatine adopted a very serious tone now. "And you're absolutely certain I have the Force, Master?"

Plagueis' face turned cold, his eyes narrowed.

"Do you believe that I would waste my precious time and my secret with someone who had no power? If I wasn't certain beyond certain that they were the key to the eradication of the Jedi Order?" His eyes flashed for a second, then his expression softened. "I have already said it. You are the strongest being in the Force I have ever felt."

"Really?"

Darth Plagueis raised a grey brow. "We shall see," he said ominously. Across the room, three of the droids powered up, their eyes shining a demonic red as they turned their heads to face their master.

"Kill him," Darth Plagueis instructed, quickly backing away from Palpatine. Without hesitation, they charged the bewildered young man.

"WHAT?" Palpatine shrieked. He'd been betrayed! There was no time to dwell on his dismay; he had to do something. The droids were getting closer, their rapid footfalls echoing loudly around the stone arena. Time seemed to slow. He saw their red photoreceptors bouncing in the distance, each step bringing them closer. He saw the light glint off the deadly vibroblades affixed to their forearms, just waiting to slice him to ribbons. He stood frozen in place, his mind succumbing to his terror. The first droid had reached him now. It swung its arm in a wide arc meant to cleave his torso in two. At the last possible moment, instinct, or perhaps the Force, intervened. Without even thinking, he ducked and rolled just as the vibroblade hummed through the space he had just occupied. He completed the roll and began running.

"Use the Force to protect yourself!" yelled Plagueis, who was now watching from twenty meters away.

"But how?" cried Palpatine. "Tell me!" The youth ran as fast as his legs would allow…right in the direction of the other two droids.

He swore loudly, something unusual for him, but given the circumstances, appropriate. Quickly, he changed directions, breaking ninety degrees to his left. Now he had all three droids in pursuit. They were mere meters behind and closing faster than he would like. As it was, he felt on the verge of collapse and it would only be a matter of seconds before they caught up. He needed to do something.

"Use you feelings! Draw upon your fear!" instructed Plagueis.

"I don't think I can do this, sir!" Palpatine yelled back. He'd never been more afraid in his life, but he couldn't see how he could use that fear for anything helpful.

"Don't think!" said Plagueis. "You must _feel_. Feel out your surroundings. Use them to your advantage. See yourself defeating them. The battle must first be won in your mind!" Plagueis was becoming concerned. "Allow your fear to work _for_ you, not against you. The Dark Side feeds on fear. This is where the Sith draw their strength." Would he stop the droids from killing the young man should he fail? _Probably_, he though. _The boy is much too valuable to let die so needlessly._

Palpatine drew upon his fear to keep him going. He was amazed at this "second wind" he was experiencing. Was this the Force? He allowed himself a brief pause to check his surroundings. He saw the large pile of droid debris nearby.

"I want to hit them with those parts!" Palpatine yelled, breathless. "How do I do that?" He was seconds away from running out of room to run. The wall was rapidly growing closer.

"See the parts," said Plagueis. "Clear your mind of everything except those parts. Visualize them rising from the floor and hitting the droids."

Palpatine was out of time. He skidded to a halt a meter in front of the wall, the droids right on top of him. He pressed himself flat against the smooth stone, as though trying to melt into it. The first droid approached and took a swing. He ducked just in time as the massive forearm smashed into the wall where his head had just been. Large chunks of rock rained down on the cowering young man. He saw an opening between the droid's legs and dove through them. Allowing himself a slight grin of silent congratulations, he started to run again, narrowly missing the attacks of the other two droids that had just caught up.

He ran towards the debris pile. He envisioned one of the bladed forearms sailing over his shoulder and decapitating the nearest droid. He saw the scenario play out in his head a dozen times. He thought of nothing else. But still, the pieces lay unmoving where they sat. He stopped in his place and closed his eyes. The heavy footfalls behind him seemed to slow and fade. Why wasn't it working? For the first time, he allowed himself to be _angry_. His anger eclipsed his fear at this point. He was furious at the situation he'd been put in. He hated the droids for trying to kill him. He hated Plagueis for setting them after him without any kind of training. Finally, he hated himself for allowing himself to die before his parents could be avenged.

Suddenly, he felt a very familiar sensation coming on. That strange pressure in his chest was building like it had on Naboo. He focused on his anger, let it fuel him, let it burn through his body like a cleansing fire. He allowed it to build until he couldn't take it anymore. He let out a scream that seemed to tear apart his very soul. He felt the power release from his body in an explosion of hate.

The world came rushing back to him. He heard a loud impact and three distinct metallic thuds. He also heard a surprised grunt. He opened his eyes and turned around. He saw the remains of the three droids, twisted and mangled beyond recognition, their smoking hulks lay sizzling just four meters away. They were lying in a pool of their own fluids.

"D-did _I_ do that?" Palpatine asked, breathless. Sweat rolled down his face.

Plagueis, who himself had been thrown to the ground, stood and brushed himself off. "Indeed, you did. That was very, very impressive," he said as he looked around the chamber. There was a small crater where his new Apprentice stood and small bits of droid debris were imbedded in the nearest wall. "There was no control, no focus, but given the circumstances," he motioned around at the demolished droids crumpled on the floor, "it worked."

Despite his extreme exhaustion, Palpatine managed a sly grin. "Can you teach me to do that again?"

Plagueis slowly raised a spidery hand, palm up, and the droids rose effortlessly from the floor, dripping fluid. He made a fist and their broken mechanical bodies were crushed into a ball, floating a meter off the ground.

"That, and so much more," he said, his own grin parting his thin lips. "In time, you will learn to wield the Force the way a master sculptor wields a hammer and chisel." He let the droids fall to the ground with a dull clang.

Palpatine approached his new master. "Good," he said. "I assume I have passed the test, Master?"

Plagueis' smile faded. "The true test will be your training. You have earned my respect, but we still have yet to see if you pass the test of time."

Palpatine's shoulders drooped, disappointed at his master's words.

Seeing this, Plagueis hardened his gaze. "A Sith is never discouraged," he barked sharply. "You must use the disappointment you feel to fuel your efforts. Prove to me that you will be the great Sith that your potential holds. Do not look to me to hold your hand."

"So what was this, Master, if not a test?" asked the young man, taken somewhat aback by the change in Plagueis' temperament.

"This was a lesson, which you have learned marvelously whether you know it or not," answered the elder Sith.

"Which was?" asked Palpatine, allowing a touch of impatience to creep into his voice.

"That a Sith is _never_ unarmed. Even when seemingly vulnerable, we are a force to be reckoned with and should not be underestimated. With the power of the Force at our command, physical threats become insignificant." Plagueis led them back to the turbolift. They made the trip back to his apartment in silence. Upon reaching the top level and exiting the lift, Plagueis stopped Palpatine with a hand.

"You must go now," he said. "Go back to your flat and consider what you have been given. Here," he pressed his thumb to the wall and a small compartment slid open, revealing a pyramidal crystalline device of some kind. "Take this holocron. It is a repository of Sith knowledge. Study it. Listen to its teachings. Return here at the same time tomorrow night and we shall get started with your training."

Plagueis handed Palpatine the holocron and ushered him back to his speeder. For the entirety of the long flight home, Palpatine's thoughts were wild and excited. He knew that when he woke in the morning, he would discover that it had all been a dream. He would see Damask at his campaign headquarters and he wouldn't be a Sith. He would be an old Muun running for the Coruscant seat in the Senate. But if this was all just a dream, he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he could. So, for the first time in his life, but not the last, he simply didn't sleep that night.

When he got home, he placed the holocron on his sitting room table and stared at it for a while, unsure of what to make of it. It was 01:00 by the time he was able to quiet his thoughts and he reached out and picked it up. It was heavy, seemingly made of several layers of clear crystalline sheets, a faint glow shown in the heart of the fist-sized pyramid. Harsh glyphs were etched into its surface. He traced the outline of one with a finger and suddenly, the inner light flashed bright red. A grainy holographic figure materialized above the apex of the pyramid.

"_I am Darth Lycan_," it said in a harsh growling voice. Though details were difficult to make out in the tiny holoimage, Palpatine recognized his species; a Shistavanen.

"_Within this holocron, you will find my teachings of the Force, my secrets collected over my many decades, and the fatal weakness of the Jedi._

"_What is it you seek, young Apprentice?"_ it asked.

For a moment, Palpatine said nothing, then realized that the image was talking _to_ him.

"I would like to know more about the Dark Side, Master Lycan," he said awkwardly. He had never spoken to a hologram before. Not one that didn't have a living being talking back, anyhow.

"_The Force is an all encompassing energy field which saturates all matter in the galaxy. It emanates from all life forms but does not depend on living matter to exist. The Force can also be absorbed and stored by inanimate objects or locations._

"_For many thousands of years, those who have wielded the Force have been split into two distinct factions: The Jedi and the Sith. Since the very first beings heard the whisperings of the Force, they have divided it into two aspects: a Light Side and a Dark Side. The Jedi swore long ago to devote themselves to the Light Side of the Force, dubbing themselves 'Knights of the Republic and Servants of the Light.' They branded those aspects of the Force which contradicted their beliefs the 'Dark Side.' Those who practiced the Dark Side were expelled from the Jedi Order and exiled from the Republic._

"_The fallen Jedi who followed the Dark Side found and conquered an ancient civilization who called themselves the Sith. Over the centuries, these practitioners adopted the name for their order, in direct opposition of the Jedi Order._

"_Many wars were fought, many lives were lost on both sides. And why? Because both orders ignorantly believed that the Force could be divided into two coherent pieces, two sides of a coin. _

"_The Force cannot be so easily broken. The Force is not a coin. The Force is one unified power. The two orders shared their greatest weakness. In following but one 'side' of the Force, they willingly walled themselves off from half of the potential power within them._

"_My teachings revolve around the belief that one cannot ever achieve their fullest potential until they have mastered the Force in its entirety._

"_Those powers which have been dubbed Dark Sided rely on powerful emotions, emotions which the Sith alone were willing to harness and use. Anger, hatred, passion, the Jedi fear these powerful emotions. But if they ever wish to truly be the power they claim to be within the universe, they must embrace their fears. In order to be a wise and powerful Sith and a strong leader for the galaxy, you must embrace a larger view of the Force."_

Palpatine listened closely. "And how do I actually _use_ the Force? I wish to move this datapad," he said, holding it out for the Sith Master's holo to see.

The image of the wolfman looked at him a moment, as though it were sizing him up. _"Close your eyes and empty your mind."_

Palpatine did as he was told. He took a deep breath and allowed his mind to drain of all thought.

"_Now you must feel the object with your mind. Focus on it," _he instructed._ "Can you picture it in your head? Can you feel it with the Force?"_

The young man concentrated for a few moments until finally, he gave up. "No," he said disappointedly.

"_Do not think of moving the object with your mind. You must imagine the Force is an extension of your hand. Reach out and grasp it. See yourself picking it up and moving it."_

He sighed. "Alright," he said. "I'll try."

"_No!"_ the Shistavanen snarled at him. _"Trying to win the battle will lose you the war. You must _do_!"_

Palpatine was taken aback at being scolded by the image of a long dead Sith Lord. "Wise words, Master Lycan," he said uneasily. "Alright, I _will_ move it." He closed his eyes again, emptying his mind of all but the datapad. Picturing the invisible hand of the Force moving towards the datapad, he formed fingers, which wrapped around the object, held it firmly. Then he "lifted." He felt the datapad leave his hand as he held it motionless in the air above his palm. He opened his eyes and saw it hovering. He concentrated harder and steadily managed to begin a slow rotation along its horizontal axis. It was shaky, wobbling severely at one point before he regained control. Finally, he allowed it to set back down in his hand. He had done it! The act had taxed him, though. But, it was a start.

"I did it, Master Lycan!" he proclaimed excitedly.

"_I suggest practicing your control before proceeding any further,"_ it said. _"A journey of a thousand kilometers begins with but a single step."_ Without warning, the image blinked out and Palpatine was left in silence.

For the rest of the night, until the first rays of dawn peeked in through the blinds, he conditioned his mind. He went over the exercise over and over again, perfecting the exact mental steps it took to touch the Force and move objects. By the time day broke and sunlight streamed into his apartment, he had mastered the technique. While unable to hold an object for long, he could now at least detect things with his mind and physically grip them with the Force. He had actually succeeded in lifting his sitting room table a few centimeters off the floor before the strain became too much and he was forced to drop it. He hoped his new master would be proud.

He brewed himself a pot of caf and poured a cup. He drank it straight. Without sweeteners or cream, it was strong and bitter, but he didn't care. He'd exerted a lot of energy over the night with his exercises and didn't have the time to sleep before he needed to be at Damask's office. The election now was just days away. The home stretch. If Damask won, which popularity polls showed him to be well ahead of the other candidates, Palpatine would surely continue to be his aide, perhaps even his deputy senator. Even with this new secret career as a potential Sith Lord, he still held the ambition of someday becoming the Supreme Chancellor. What better position to wipe out the Jedi than right under their very noses and right above them on the chain of command?

He poured himself a second cup of caf, downed it fast, and rushed out of the apartment. He jumped into his beat up speeder and raced off toward his destiny.

Damask sat in his office, enveloped in his large comfortable chair and half hidden behind his enormous hardwood desk. A golden statue stood in the corner, a shadowy figure in robes holding a sword. He told people it was an ancient Tiionese warlord when in reality, it was the Sith Lord Darth Andeddu, whose power was so great, he continued to reign as a Dark Lord even after his physical body had expired and begun to rot, using the Force and his will to keep it animated. Darth Andeddu was the inspiration for Plagueis' experiments to prolong and even create life through the Force. For years, he had been working on discovering the secret. He knew that his new Apprentice would give him the strength he needed to break through the last veils of mystery surrounding immortality.

He had begun his quest for the secret of Life shortly after his master, the Bith Sith Lord Tenebrous, had met his…_untimely_…end. Plagueis had killed him with ease while they sparred. But afterwards, he began to be haunted by terrible dreams of his own death. He was terrified of the ease at which even a skilled master such as Tenebrous had fallen and vowed to find the solution to that problem. His labors had taken up decades of his life, but the secret was now just outside his grasp. He had managed to resurrect a dead hawkbat on several occasions. He was developing a certain degree of direct control over midi-chlorians, the tiny beings which resided in the cells of all life and allowed a fortunate few to hear the call of the Force. If he could exert complete dominance over them, he was confident that he could instruct them to not only reverse death, but prolong life indefinitely and, indeed, even _create_ life.

Unfortunately for him, the only Sith teachings which delve into immortality rely solely on spirit retention after physical death and the transference of one's consciousness into a waiting body. But what Plagueis was searching for wasn't a way to cheat death, but rather to stop it cold, to hold it at bay forever. As far as he knew, he was the first in the order to travel down the path which he'd uncovered.

He was a member of the new Sith. After Darth Lycan had taken the title of Dark Lord of the Sith, he began to steer the order back toward the vision laid out by Darth Bane, whose tenets proclaimed that the Jedi could only be destroyed through deception and manipulation. The Sith would bring the order to its knees, of that Lycan had no doubt. But like Bane, he knew it would be much more subtle than an open war. And so, he began reshaping the order to achieve Darth Bane's glorious vision. Now, more than two hundred years later, Plagueis was passing on those same teachings and was at last grooming the final Sith in the line, the Sith who would bring down the Jedi. Plagueis was sure of that. Darth Lycan had been right. There would be no outward war on the Jedi. They would not be defeated with the lightsaber, but with the pen. If he could groom Palpatine to realize his dream and become Supreme Chancellor, that would be the end of the Jedi. A Sith commanding them as the head of the Republic would be so unexpected, they would have no clue of what was happening to them until it was too late. To defeat the Jedi, the Sith must wield political power as they wield the Force. It was the only way to destroy them since they had become so hopelessly entangled in the politics of the Republic since Ruusan. Despite counting some of the most powerful Jedi in history amongst its current membership, the Jedi Order had never been weaker or more vulnerable to just this sort of attack.

His ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of someone outside his office. It was Palpatine. His presence in the Force was positively glowing now. And, if possible, he felt an _increase_ in power since the night before. At the very least it was much more finely honed. The young man's thoughts definitely seemed more confident, more controlled. _He has found focus_, Plagueis thought to himself. _The boy is a prodigy._

Plagueis stood and straightened his clothing, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fine fabric. He made his way to the door, put on the face of Damask, and stepped out of his office to begin his day.

Palpatine was just sitting down at his desk when he saw Damask leave his office across the room. When they made eye contact, they each offered the other nothing more than a polite smile and a head nod of greeting. There were scant few other campaign volunteers present. But he couldn't risk telling his Master of his quick advancement with _anyone_ around. No matter. He was going back to his master's apartment later that night. He could tell him then. He was excited to formally begin his training.

As was always the case when one was looking forward to something in the evening, the day wore on like a sick bantha, slow and torturous. There was very little left to do. With the election now barely a week away, there were no more rallies to be had. The one the previous day had been their last chance to get the word out. Now, it was all contacting potential voters and reminding them of the polling times and places and of Damask's key points. Basically, it was the mind-numbingly tedious work that everyone knew would come at the end but dreaded every day until the time came.

But, despite the tedium, he kept the faintest shadow of a smile on his face throughout the day. Since the previous evening, he had felt powerful. But not in the Force. While true, he now felt the Force very strongly, this new strength had given his self-esteem a sudden boost. He felt like he could accomplish anything he put his mind to. All self-doubt had vanished. Damask _would_ be a Senator. And he would see to it that Palpatine followed in his footsteps. He couldn't explain how, but he saw all the pieces in play, saw how they fell into place. He _knew_ they would succeed. That was what got him through the day, kept his demeanor pleasant while repeating his spiel to dozens of voters.

As the day was winding down and Palpatine was shutting down his terminal, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder.

He turned, startled, and stared into the eyes of Damask—of _Plagueis_—his master.

"Sir," he said, refraining from addressing Muun as "master" around the office. "You startled me."

"A Sith must never allow himself to be caught off guard," he said in a hushed tone.

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry."

The alien squeezed Palpatine's shoulder painfully. "A Sith shows no regret," he proclaimed.

Palpatine stood, shrugging out of Plagueis' grip. "Then I am not sorry, sir," he said coolly, his tone not betraying the anxiety he felt confronting his new Master in this way. "My senses are not yet trained and I had no means of knowing you were there." He looked his master in the eye, hoping that he had given the correct answer. Damask returned Palpatine's gaze, a cold hard stare. But after a moment, his lips parted in a smile.

"Excellent, you are learning." He removed his hand from the young man's shoulder and straightened his back. "Come. The election is beyond our hands now. We have several days during which time we can focus on beginning your training."

"I am ready, sir." To anyone who may have overheard their conversation, it would sound like an over confident man counting his mynocks before they hatch, promising to share his yet-to-come victory with his protégé. Little would they know that these two men were about to set into motion events that would change the galaxy forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Sweat poured down Palpatine's face, his auburn hair matted and sticking to his forehead. His face was strained and contorted with effort and intense concentration. For hours, he had been attempting to tie a length of string into a knot. It was a seemingly simple exercise that he had so far been unsuccessful at achieving. Lord Plagueis told him that the point of the exercise was not to tie the knot but to condition your mind to more precisely control the Force. Plagueis admitted that the exercise was, for reasons beyond even his understanding, "more difficult than counting all the stars in the night sky."

He found it only somewhat comforting to know that even his master found the task difficult. So far he'd managed to bring up both ends of the string, however unsteadily, and even brought them together to form a loop. But stars be cursed if he couldn't pull the ends through the loop. It was insanely frustrating for someone who was normally so quick to learn. Despite Plagueis' assurance of its near impossibility, Palpatine was determined to do it. He wasn't the type to give up before he'd accomplished his goal. However bloody long it took.

Plagueis sat alone in his darkened bedroom. He'd decorated it as lavishly as he had the rest of the apartment. He was not a materialistic man. But he did rather enjoy the luxury that came along with having money. Lots and lots of money. He also quite liked the petty jealousy it inspired in others. He could drink himself blind on that vintage all day.

The fine silk of the bed linens slipped soundlessly through his long fingers. He tugged at them subconsciously, lost in thought. He still couldn't believe the incredible gift the Force had bestowed upon him. The boy's power was incredible. It was beyond measure. His midi-chlorian count had to be through the roof; it might be higher even than Master Yoda's, who many claim is the strongest Force wielder the galaxy has ever seen. Plagueis laughed to himself. _Second strongest now_, he thought. The creature in the other room would spell the end of the Jedi Order. It was the grand crescendo in a piece called the Fall of the Jedi. And it would be a marvelous performance. _Yes it will be. Simply _marvelous.

He laid back on his enormous bed, sinking into the soft layers. He allowed himself to drift into a light sleep, his consciousness kept alert with the Force. In this state, he could contemplate for what seemed like hours on end but was really mere minutes. He could focus more clearly, see further into the future than when he was awake. He always maintained a certain level of awareness in the conscious world, never letting his guard down. His senses were so finely honed, he was confident that he could detect any danger long before it came upon him, even in this distracted state. Even during full sleep. He fancied himself untouchable.

"You've found yourself quite the protégé, my Apprentice," said a grating metallic voice.

Plagueis snapped open his beady eyes. He was surrounded by a curtain of black swirling smoke that neither stung his eyes nor burned his lungs. He was in an isolated corner of his mind. This was where he came to meditate. Unfortunately, he was not always alone.

"This boy is very powerful," the voice spoke again. "He'll do well. Assuming you don't 'accidentally' kill him one day."

Plagueis rolled his eyes; or what would have passed for eye rolling in this place within his own head.

"Tenebrous, you have had twenty years to move on," he said in a tired voice, clearly not for the first time. "Why do you pester me so?"

Before him appeared the figure of a Bith, clad in layered armor, heavy black cloak, and a breathing apparatus that covered the lower half of his face. "I like to see how you spend the credits you earn from my company," he snapped sarcastically, his voice raspy and artificial in the apparatus's voicebox. He shook his large, bulbous head and sighed, staring out with his enormous black eyes. "Betrayal is the way of the Sith, Apprentice. But you were not _ready_."

Plagueis snorted in obvious disagreement and sneered. "We have had this discussion countless times and it grows tiresome. There will come a day, Master, when I discover the means to banish you into Chaos and then perhaps finally I shall have a quiet moment to meditate." He turned to walk away, but the Bith, Darth Tenebrous, simply appeared in the space before him. "Get out of my head!" Plagueis demanded angrily. "You were weak. The Sith code demanded that you be replaced."

"And you felt yourself stronger than I?" Darth Tenebrous raised a thin brow.

"Obviously," Plagueis answered in a deadly whisper. "Had you been more powerful, I would not have struck you down quite so easily, now would I?"

"Even a Sith Master can be caught off guard," Darth Tenebrous countered. "Power has nothing to do with it. You'll do well to remember that." Then he added, "And make sure the boy knows it, too. If he's the last hope our Order has, you don't want him killed by the enemy he believes weaker than he, now do you?"

"Certainly not," Plagueis said through gritted teeth, allowing his annoyance to show full.

"Why are you here, Apprentice?" Tenebrous asked, studying his former pupil as he had in life. "What could you possibly have to meditate about? _He is the one_. You've suspected something about him for months. Now that he's come into the Force, you have your confirmation. He is the final piece. So _train_ him, boy."

Plagueis narrowed his eyes. "Just what exactly is it you think I'm doing with him?"

"First you threw him into danger without a shred of training, formal or informal. Then you simply hand him Darth Lycan's holocron and tell him to take it home and study it. And _now_ you have him performing that infernal string exercise." Tenebrous threw up his hands in exasperation. "So far, he has trained _himself_. _You_ must teach him, Hego. Mold him. You know the importance of his training. If you fail him, you will have failed the entire Order, from Darth Bane down to that boy."

The living Dark Lord sighed in his mental bubble. He hated to admit it, but his master was right. So far, he was off to a miserable start training young Palpatine. How would he learn the skills he'd need to take down the Jedi simply through exercises and holocrons?

"You are right, of course, Master," he said bitterly after a moment's consideration. "There are times that I almost regret having killed you."

"A Sith does not feel regret, Plagueis," Tenebrous said sternly. "I know I managed to teach you _that_ before I was sliced so neatly in two. I may not be happy with what you did, but if you _felt_ I was weakening, then you…you did the right thing." Tenebrous sounded as though admitting this were making him physically ill. Plagueis would have been lying to say that it didn't bring him great satisfaction to hear.

"Why, Master Tenebrous," started Plagueis in a mocking tone. "It sounds almost as though you have, after two decades, accepted your fate."

"Yes, alright!" Tenebrous snapped savagely. "Perhaps I have been stubborn, but you can't deny that you secretly depend on my guidance." He shoved a heavy gloved finger in Plagueis' face. "And just because I have accepted what you did doesn't mean I'm 'moving on' as you put it. I will remain here for as long as I feel I'm needed." He added sharply, "Whether _you_ feel I am or not."

Plagueis sighed in defeat. "You must do what you think is right, of course. However intolerable that may be." Like it or not, for the moment, Plagueis was powerless to keep his old master from performing these surprise intrusions.

"You always were an ungrateful student, Hego," Tenebrous scoffed. "You never appreciated what I taught you. You just remember, everything you are today was built on the foundations _I_ laid. You are who you are because of _me_. Some respect would be nice."

"Of course, Master." Plagueis with an exaggerated bow. "I do appreciate what you did for me. And, I'm sure, _some_ of what you will continue to do for me."

"Well," Tenebrous began cautiously. He folded his hands inside the sleeves of his cloak. "I suppose that is a start. Now why don't you go and train your apprentice? He is thirsty for knowledge and you have much to pass on. He will make you proud." Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the billowing black smoke, leaving Plagueis alone in his own mind.

Plagueis' eyes snapped open. For real this time. He sat up, rubbing his face. He glanced at the chronometer; only three minutes had passed. The younger man was still in the front room, as he had been for hours, attempting to tie a knot in a piece of string. He could sense the boy's growing frustration. Tenebrous was right. He couldn't let holocrons and string train his Apprentice. If the Jedi were to be defeated, young Palpatine would need intensive training. He would need to be more than just a tool of the Dark Side. Any brute can wield the Force as a cudgel. Palpatine would need to be honed as a scalpel. He would need strength, intelligence, cunning. He would need to be _perfect_.

He stood and walked out of the room.

"Boy!" he called out. "Let us begin your _real_ training."

"Again," Plagueis instructed sharply. This was one of the first chances he'd had to personally instruct his Apprentice since winning his election two weeks earlier. It was a relief to pry himself away from the fools he called his peers in the Senate.

He sat cross-legged beside his apprentice, towering over the boy still. They were in the secret training facility deep underground beneath Plagueis' apartment building. Before them stood a crude mannequin, a stand-in enemy.

"I _am_ trying, Master." Palpatine was becoming frustrated and angry. He was losing his focus. After his initial progression the first night, things had slowed down to almost a standstill. It had been three weeks and if anything, he had actually _regressed_. He could barely rattle his sitting room table. And now Darth Plagueis wanted him to push over this seventy kilo figure from five meters away.

"You are not concentrating," Plagueis reprimanded. He, too, was becoming frustrated with his Apprentice's progress. "Close your eyes," he instructed.

"But, Master—"

"Do it!" Plagueis commanded.

Palpatine sighed and did as he was told. "My eyes are closed, Master," he said with a certain edge to his tone.

"Focus on your anger. Allow it to infuse your very being." Plagueis' droning voice echoed around the cavernous room like the buzz of a thousand stinging insects. "Use it to fuel your power. Feel yourself pushing the analog."

Though he'd heard this all before, Palpatine did as he was told. He took a deep breath, focused on his hatred of the Jedi, of the Jedi Knight who killed his parents. Fresh flames roared in the pit of his stomach. He allowed the fire to spread to all parts of his body, felt it run through him like a drug. His limbs tingled, his arms itched. Slowly, he brought them out in front of him, gesturing toward the training dummy. He focused the power through his outstretched arms, through the palms of his hands, and out of his body. He felt an almost electrical surge and heard the sound of something heavy hitting the stone floor.

He opened his eyes to see the dummy laid out on the ground, its limbs splayed in awkward positions.

"Very good," Plagueis said. Without a gesture, he righted the dummy and instructed, "Again."

It was two months into his training and Palpatine seemed to have worked past his previous mental blocks. The Force was flowing very strongly through him and every day, he grew stronger still as his connection and control increased.

He stood in the center of the training chamber floor with his eyes closed. Several training dummies rotated around him like some bizarre solar system. His control was getting better and more precise. He was even managing a slight spin to one of the dummies, though the exercise was still somewhat taxing.

Plagueis stood watching his apprentice for a moment, feeling much pride. But mixed with that pride was another feeling; dread. Though he had long ago accepted the fact that some day, he would be struck down by an apprentice, he was suddenly face to face with his own death and he didn't like it one bit. There was an odd perversion to knowingly training the being he knew would ultimately kill him. He feared that his powers over death wouldn't be great enough to save himself when the time came. It was very unlikely Palpatine would allow him to live long enough to master the techniques he'd only recently discovered. For the time being, the young man viewed Plagueis as a substitute father figure and for now, he allowed it. But the aging Sith Lord knew that would one day change. The boy was smart and he was powerful. Far more powerful than Plagueis. There would come a day when Palpatine realized that his master no longer had anything left to teach him. Perhaps Plagueis could prolong that day's coming by a few years, a decade or two, but that day would come regardless. And that terrified him.

_But today is not that day_, he thought to himself, shaking away his feelings of dread. _You have an obligation to the order. For now, you train him._ He had something special in mind for Palpatine that day.

"That is very good, boy," he called out. "But by now you should be able to spin them all and have them rotating in different directions. Your control is impressive, but you can do better."

He felt a momentary wave of anger come from the boy. Palpatine didn't like being criticized. But he was quickly able to control his feelings and the anger dissipated.

"I will practice harder, Master," he said without debate.

"Good," Plagueis said. "But not right now. Put those down."

Palpatine obeyed. The dummies were sent back against the wall and he turned to face his master. "What are we doing today, Master?" the youth asked with voracious enthusiasm. The boy did love to learn.

Plagueis held up his hands, showing the training sabers he was clutching. "Today is an important day. Today we begin your saber training." He handed Palpatine the simple training blade, made from some sort of hard wood or plastic. Palpatine wasn't sure which. "The lightsaber is a tool which the Jedi and the Sith share. Traditionally, a Sith utilizes a red blade." Plagueis unhooked his own lightsaber from his belt and ignited it. He handed the lit blade to Palpatine.

The young man accepted the weapon carefully, taking note of the strange balance it had. As the blade weighed nothing, all of the weight was in the hilt. But the blade itself seemed to offer some strange resistance, as if it fought against his grip, giving it a sort of illusory mass. That would take some getting used to. He examined the ornate hilt. It was a thin cylinder with a slight ovoid bulge at either end, rather like a drawn out and rounded hourglass; the bottom appeared to be the weapon's powercell, the top was the emitter. Surrounding the emitter were short hooked prongs, like claws. The entire thing was covered in what seemed to be a hard black stone, not metal like he was expecting. It was inlaid over metal components and inscribed with a harsh gold writing he didn't recognize.

He thumbed the activator and extinguished the blade, handing the beautiful piece back to its owner.

"When do I make one, Master?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off of the weapon.

"The Force will tell you when it is your time, Apprentice," Plagueis answered. "For now, we will make due with these." He brought the training saber up in front of him, holding it with both hands. He stood with one foot forward, an obvious ready stance.

Palpatine brought his saber up to bear and copied Plagueis. "How is this, Master?"

"Space your feet further apart," Plagueis instructed. "Distribute your weight more towards your back foot. That way you can strike forward with your full body weight. And bring the blade higher. You leave your shoulder open to attack."

Palpatine did as he was told.

"Now," began Plagueis, "I am going to teach you the core moves. They are quite simple. Once you have learned them we can move on to more advanced styles."

For the next several hours, Plagueis drilled Palpatine in the core lightsaber moves. As he had with everything else, Palpatine caught on very quickly. He was soon expertly blocking his master's every blow.

"Excellent!" Plagueis lowered his blade. "You are using the Force to anticipate my attacks. That is very good. I'm most impressed, Apprentice."

Palpatine wiped the sweat from his brow. "Thank you, Master. This is actually quite fun."

"The art of the saber is an ancient and noble skill," Plagueis sounded as though he were about to rebuke Palpatine, but then his face softened into a smile, "and yes, it can certainly be…fun." He raised his blade. "Shall we continue?"

Ghastly pale creatures surrounded him. They were eyeless, naked save for simple loin cloths. They appeared almost Human, perhaps branched off thousands of years ago after being trapped here in Coruscant's underworld.

Palpatine glanced around him slowly as more Cthons joined the circle. Some growled softly, others brought up crude electroshock nets, just waiting for the man to make a move. Palpatine was terrified. He didn't even try to hide it. A true Sith, Master Plagueis had said, was not fearless. They were merely able to use that fear to strengthen themselves. He felt the hard lump of coldness growing in his stomach, fought the impulse to run for his life. He turned his fear into hatred for the creatures.

The cold lump began to warm until it burned like a star. He let the heat spread throughout his entire body. He eyed the lead Cthon, which had started to advance slowly on the boy. But Palpatine didn't fear it any longer. He felt invincible. He would destroy this one, then he would destroy them all—

His thoughts were interrupted by a searing pain over his entire body. It felt as though every nerve was firing simultaneously. It was indescribable. For a moment he was confused, but then the answer dawned on him and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He'd been so focused on the lead Cthon that he had completely ignored the ones behind him. One of them had snared him in their shocknet. And now he was dead.

The pain stopped. He was sprawled out on the stone floor of the Sith training chamber. Plagueis stood over him, a stern look on his long grey face.

"Your overconfidence is your weakness, boy," he spat. "You must be aware of everything around you. Do not let yourself focus all of your attention on one enemy when others may be near."

Palpatine pushed himself up to his knees. "Yes, Master," he said, breathless. He could still feel the ghostly echoes of the pain that had wracked his body. But it had all been in his head, a projection Plagueis had planted in his mind with the Force. "I realized my mistake the second I made it."

"You need to realize your mistakes _before_ you make them, Apprentice." Plagueis offered Palpatine his hand and helped him to his feet. "My Master now realizes his mistake, but he is dead for it."

Palpatine nodded. "I understand, Master."

"Good," Plagueis said. "Because before you can be Named, you must first pass a test that may be similar to the scenario you were just put in. Except this test will be for real and the danger will hurt more than just your pride."

Fear tugged at Palpatine's gut. Though he'd been afraid in Plagueis' conjured reality, in the back of his head, he always knew that it was just an illusion. The thought of being in that same situation in real life almost overwhelmed him. He could only hope that he wouldn't let his master down and get himself killed.

"Do you have a name chosen for me yet, Master?" he asked as they made their way up to Plagueis' apartment for meditation. It had now been three months since he'd accepted his role of Sith Apprentice. He longed to become a Dark Lord.

"No," said Plagueis. "When the time is right, I shall know your name." He motioned for Palpatine to follow him to the lift. "But you still have a great deal to learn before then."

Before Plagueis could press the call switch, Palpatine tripped it with the Force. The elder Sith glanced over his shoulder. "I see you have been practicing your precision control," he commented.

"Yes, Master, I have," answered Palpatine proudly. "I had actually been trying to press it for about thirty seconds," he admitted. "I do feel more in control now, though."

Plagueis smiled as the lift door opened. "Excellent. I'm pleased with your progress. Have you been practicing the Force suppression technique I taught you? The stronger you become, the more easily a Jedi can detect you. Larger stones cast deeper ripples."

Palpatine nodded and stepped into the lift beside his master. "Yes. I practice every night before my meditations." He closed his eyes and pulled his presence inward, compacting it into a fist-sized bubble within his chest.

Plagueis noticed the effect instantly. "Most impressive, Apprentice! I can still sense you, but you are very faint, even at this distance. I would like you to remain as you are now for as long as you can. Practice endurance. You may someday need to hide your presence indefinitely, as I do when I am in the Senate. Other times, you may only need to dilute your presence, make it diffuse and as difficult to grasp as smoke."

"Yes, Master," Palpatine said obediently.

He managed to keep his presence suppressed for the rest of the day, all through his other exercises and lessons. Plagueis was very pleased. Palpatine got the feeling that Plagueis was something more than impressed with how quickly he was able to learn things. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was still far too novice to be able to read anything from his master that wasn't purposely put out there to read. It was more a feeling in his gut than anything through the Force. He almost thought he caught a flicker of fear once several weeks before, but he wasn't positive. Why would his master fear him? Perhaps he had more power than Plagueis and the Dark Lord was afraid that his use would run out before he was ready to give up his position as Master.

As the weeks went by, Palpatine grew stronger and stronger, mastering the core Force powers with astonishing speed. Though only eight months into his training, he could now expertly dodge stun bolts shot at him from a training remote, lift things as small as a credit chip or as large as a personal speeder, and even heal small cuts and scrapes almost instantly. He was also well on his way to becoming an expert blademaster. There wasn't anything Plagueis could throw at him that Palpatine didn't assimilate almost instantly.

Plagueis, satisfied with the stability of the foundation which he'd laid, decided to begin teaching Palpatine more advanced Force techniques. Starting with Force Lightning, an old Sith favorite.

He approached his apprentice, who had early on in his training learned of the advantages of deep meditation. Currently Palpatine hovered a meter in the air, cross-legged and deep in meditation. The boy truly was awe inspiring.

"Wake, Apprentice. Today we learn a new lesson."

The young man opened his eyes. "I wasn't asleep, Master. You know that." Palpatine discovered that meditation was far more efficient in restoring his energies than sleep. He now viewed sleep as a weakness, an opinion he didn't openly express to his master. Plagueis still allowed himself to sleep at night like any other being with a sleep cycle. Palpatine often wondered why such a powerful man would knowingly harbor such an obvious weakness.

Plagueis eyed him but said nothing. He instructed Palpatine to follow him and they made their way down into the training chamber.

When they arrived below ground, Plagueis activated one of the droids he had unleashed upon Palpatine his first night. He instructed it to stand in the center of the chamber; he and Palpatine stood ten meters away.

"Today," he began, "I am going to teach you a very difficult power. But one that is almost impossible to counter. It is an ancient Sith weapon that goes by many names: Dark Lightning, Force Storm, Force Lighting. All refer to this most devastating power. Observe."

He extended one hand and splayed his long, slender fingers like claws. Without warning, pure blue-white energy bolts erupted from his fingertips and hit the droid. The machine convulsed as the energy penetrated its alloy skin and decimated its delicate internal parts. Sparks flew and smoke wafted into the air as circuitry melted. After several seconds, Plagueis lowered his arm and the attack ceased. Residual energy crackled along the droid's carapace and it toppled over with a loud crash.

Palpatine looked on in complete awe. Such a dramatic and devastating display of raw power. He was instantly attracted to it.

"How do I do _that_, Master?" he asked excitedly. He looked to Plagueis, an expression of hungry anticipation on his face.

"It is very draining at first," Plagueis began. "I do not expect to see much in the way of results today. Force Lightning is a dangerous power to wield and can be difficult to control. It causes excruciating pain to your enemies and can be powerful enough to kill. But it also presents certain dangers to the caster." He paused a moment, ensuring his apprentice understood the gravity of what he was about to say. "The 'lightning' is in reality raw Dark Side energy. If you cannot control it, it can very easily consume you along with your enemies. Prolonged use is also very damaging to the caster's body. It can affect you on a cellular level. There are tales of powerful Sith who were grossly deformed as a result of overuse. This power is to be used only when necessary."

Not disheartened in the least, Palpatine chose to humor the old man. "Of course, Master. The last thing I wish is to end up a horribly gnarled and disfigured old man." He laughed.

Plagueis cocked a brow and nodded. "I am glad to hear that." He activated another droid by remote and it clomped its way to where the other droid lay dead, smoke still wafting off its mechanical corpse. "Now it is your turn." He gestured for Palpatine to switch places with him. "First you must imagine a reservoir of energy in your chest," he instructed. "Feed it your anger. Fill it up."

Palpatine closed his eyes and concentrated. He imagined some sort of powercell sitting square in his chest. He found he was able to concentrate and store his anger in this place. Remembering the Jedi Sifo-Dyas's face, his touch, his words, Palpatine let his rage boil his blood. He siphoned this rage into this powercell. He sensed it growing in strength, felt the concentration of energy in his chest threatening to blow. He channeled the Dark Side into his core and let it swirl like a violent storm, gaining intensity by the minute.

"When you feel your reservoir has reached capacity, release the energy and direct it through your finger tips," Plagueis said. "You must be careful not to lose control. It is not uncommon for an inexperienced caster to receive serious burns on their hands. Or worse," he warned darkly.

Eyes still closed in concentration, Palpatine nodded. It felt as though his chest were a reactor reaching critical mass. He wasn't sure he could hold the energy back any longer, so he extended his arms in front of him, splaying his fingers as he'd seen his master do. Taking a long deep breath, he released his hold on the energies built up inside of him and focused them down his arms, through his hands, and out his fingers.

The next thing he knew, he was staring straight up at his master's thin boxy face, which wore a concerned but not surprised expression.

"What happened?" the boy asked groggily.

Plagueis grabbed him by the arm and helped him to his feet.

"You lost control," he said flatly. "And you've burned your hands." He nodded to the young man's smoking skin. Angry blisters were popping up all over the red palms.

Palpatine used a technique Plagueis had taught him to feed on the physical pain. He sent this extra energy boost to work healing his hands. "But did I do it, Master?"

"There was a bright flash, a spark," Plagueis said. "It was powerful but uncontrolled." He put a hand on Palpatine's shoulder. "Don't let this discourage you. I didn't expect _anything_ to happen your first time. The fact that you managed even burned hands is a sign of your power."

"I'd like to try again, Master," said Palpatine. He was eager to learn this new power.

"No," Plagueis said firmly. "You have expended too much energy the first time and you need to allow your hands time to heal. We will revisit this lesson another time."

Clearly disappointed, Palpatine merely nodded, not wishing to argue. "I'll be off then, Master. I still need to contact Senator Zahn Aertz about the change in meeting times tomorrow." It hadn't been easy working full-time as the personal assistant of a Republic Senator when his Sith training took up so much of his time. Though he couldn't imagine it being any easier for his master.

Palpatine went directly back to his flat to study and practice more of this Force Lightning. He didn't care what his master said. He didn't _feel_ drained and his hands were already starting to heal. If he could not practice under the supervision of Lord Plagueis then he would practice in secret.

He had already discovered an innate ability to see into the future. He learned of this talent during one of his frequent secret practices. His master was also unaware that he'd sworn off sleep altogether in favor of meditation, which gave Palpatine several extra hours every night to study. He intended to gain power whenever possible, whether his master allowed it or not. It disturbed him that Plagueis stopped him from attempting Force Lightning again. In Palpatine's eyes, a true Sith would have made his apprentice work through the pain and the fatigue. But he admitted to himself that he was still very new to the game. After all, Plagueis was obviously very powerful. He must have his reasons for seemingly holding his apprentice back. Perhaps he was merely being overly cautious, not wanting to risk the life of such a powerful new Sith so carelessly.

Once changed into his loungewear, Palpatine extracted Darth Lycan's holocron from its hiding place in his wall safe. He sat it on the sitting room table and lightly stroked one of the pyramid's sides, as though he were petting some small delicate animal. Instantly, the holocron sprang to life, blue light erupting from its apex and coalescing into the hooded figure of the imposing Shistavanen Sith Lord Darth Lycan.

"_You return to me, young Master. What is it you seek now?"_ The small figure spoke in its guttural growl of a voice.

"Teach me about Sith Lightning," Palpatine demanded. "My master coddles me like a child. My first attempt failed and he ended the lesson. I would like to study further."

"_Very well,"_ Lycan said. The image flickered then reformed into a looped holo of a feline alien of some kind casting the deadly lightning on a large group of attackers.

"_This is my apprentice, Darth Talyn,"_ Lycan narrated._ "She is demonstrating just how effective this power can be. Here you can see her fending off over one hundred assailants with a powerful Lightning attack. You can also see that many of them were killed instantly, while others were merely incapacitated with blinding pain._

"_Force Lightning is one of the most intimidating and effective tools in a Sith's arsenal. It can be used to kill, to torture, or merely to threaten or intimidate."_ On cue, the image changed to that of a man holding what looked like a ball of pure energy in his palm. _"You will find that very few sentients can maintain defiance when faced with this power. As one of the more dramatic displays of power, many Sith prefer to use it when in the presence of others who may defy them. It works well when one wishes to set an example._

"_One must show restraint, however,"_ Lycan continued. _"As the 'lightning' is comprised of pure Dark Side energies, extensive use can lead to deformation, disfigurement, and even death of the caster."_ The image changed again, this time to the gnarled face of an old Human woman. Her appearance was so twisted, Palpatine couldn't imagine it could be credited to simply advanced age. Her skin was pallid and pasty. It looked like dead flesh, the meat of her face sagged off the bone. Deep lines crisscrossed her face. _"This is an extremely rare and advanced case,"_ Lycan explained, _"but the danger is very real. The use of Force Lightning should be limited."_

"Is there any way to reverse the affects?" asked Palpatine. "Or perhaps counter them altogether through some sort of advanced mastery?"

The image reverted back to the figure of Darth Lycan. The tiny holo scratched at the grizzled fur on his chin, a curious mannerism, Palpatine thought, for an artificial intelligence. _"I do not believe so. The power is too great. It is not a matter of control. Most organic bodies simply are not meant to withstand prolonged exposure to that sort of raw energy. I suppose a powerful enough Sith could reverse the effects to a point. Or even change their features completely. Though that would take a mastery of powers beyond my considerable knowledge. One would need to be continually exerting energy to maintain this Force Mask. To lose concentration for even a moment would potentially drop the mask and allow the features to revert back to their original state."_

Palpatine thought on this a moment. "Where could I find information on this Force Mask?"

"_Do you anticipate needing one?"_ Lycan countered.

Palpatine smiled. "Let's just say I would rather have one and not need it than need it and not have one. I like to be prepared."

"_That is a very wise philosophy, boy,"_ the hologram said. _"I suppose one could possibly locate the technique on Korriban. There are countless secrets on that world just waiting to be uncovered."_

"Thank you, Master Lycan. You have been most helpful, as usual."

The hologram bowed. _"It is my pleasure to see the future of the Sith in such wise and capable hands,"_ Lycan growled. The hologram winked out and the holocron sat lifeless on Palpatine's table.

_Korriban_, Palpatine mused. He found it difficult to imagine his master taking him to the mausoleum world of the Sith. It would look very strange indeed if a senator were to suddenly take off to parts unknown with his aide. Scandalous, almost. _But I must get there somehow_, he thought. Unable to do anything about it at the moment, Palpatine turned his attention back to his practice and his increasing power.

Palpatine was sulking in his apartment. It had been many weeks since his master had shown him just how destructive the Dark Side could be with a Sith Lightning demonstration, but contrary to his word, Plagueis had yet to return to that lesson. Palpatine had been practicing a bit on his own, but there was little he could do within the confines of his apartment. He'd already set fire to a chair and badly melted a wall sconce. He needed the open space of the training chamber. Until his master saw him fit to attempt the power again, he was forced to merely condition his energy building techniques without being able to actually release it. He was becoming increasingly frustrated with Plagueis' teaching methods. It almost felt as though Plagueis were _purposely_ holding back, like he'd suddenly changed his mind and no longer wanted to train Palpatine. _That's just too bad, Master_, the young Sith thought. _You wanted me. Now you've got me._

He cleared a space in the middle of his sitting room and sat cross-legged on the floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearing his mind. Slowly, he began to rise from the carpet. A few centimeters at first, then a meter. He found it took surprisingly little concentration to meditate in this state. Without the sensation of his weight resting on the floor, it freed up more of his subconscious mind to focus on meditation. After every session, he felt he could grasp the Force just that much tighter, control it just that much more completely. Just as an added challenge, he put himself in a very slow spin, perhaps one revolution a minute.

Palpatine retreated to a small corner of his mind, where he went during his meditation. Most times it was dark and quiet, enabling him to think clearly and focus efficiently on his studies. But this day, he had company. He sensed another presence in his personal sanctuary with him.

"Who is there?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the void. He found it curious that his mind would conjure something as trivial as an echo.

Suddenly the darkness surrounding him dissolved into a wide grassy plain. A warm breeze swirled around him, carrying a familiar sweet scent. Off in the far distance, a mighty palace sat atop a towering cliff. A beautiful waterfall cascaded over the edge and mist sprayed up for hundreds of meters. Everything was serene, peaceful. He was home.

"A truly beautiful planet," boomed a grating metallic voice, startling the young man. Palpatine spun around to face it. Before him stood a tall robed figure. It brought its hands up to its face and lowered its hood, revealing a scarred Bith staring back at him.

"You," Palpatine said suspiciously. "You feel…familiar."

"I should," the Bith replied flatly. "In an odd way, I am your grandfather."

Palpatine puzzled over this a moment. "My…? You're Darth Tenebrous, aren't you? You were my Master's master."

The Bith nodded his bulbous pink head. "That I am, boy," he confirmed.

Palpatine narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What are you doing here? How have you invaded my mind like this?"

"With death comes certain useful abilities, such as contacting the living during periods of unconsciousness."

Palpatine shook his head. "But I'm not asleep."

Tenebrous sighed through his breather. "Alright, periods of _low_ consciousness," he said, irritated. "I can speak to you when your mind is in deep meditation. It's how I commune with your master."

Wind licked softly at Palpatine's shaggy hair. "Why have you never spoken to me before now? I've been his Apprentice for almost a year."

"I have been watching the both of you," Tenebrous told him. "Very closely. Closer still after he began to show you a certain advanced technique three months ago and then left your lesson incomplete." Tenebrous grinned behind his mask. "I have also witnessed your special training sessions. The _unsupervised_ training sessions."

Palpatine's eyes widened in fear then narrowed in anger. "You haven't—"

"No," Tenebrous cut him off quickly. "And I'm not going to, either. Secrecy is the way of the Sith. It's natural that you aspire beyond what your master teaches you. Besides," he said with a casual shrug, "were he a better teacher, you wouldn't feel forced to study in secret. You still would, mind you. But you wouldn't feel as though you _had_ to."

"So if you aren't going to tell him, what are you doing here?"

Tenebrous gave Palpatine a pained look. "I've come to warn you," he said at last.

Confused, Palpatine asked, "Warn me about what?"

"_Plagueis_," Tenebrous said as if the word were a swear. "He can't be trusted."

"He's a Sith," countered Palpatine. "Of course he can't be trusted. I'm not stupid."

"You are very wise, boy," Tenebrous complimented. "Very wise indeed. But this goes beyond even what you have accounted for."

Palpatine raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"Your master is holding you back," Tenebrous said finally. "Why, I don't know, but I have my suspicions."

"Which are?" Palpatine urged.

"He is afraid of you," the Bith Sith Lord said simply. "And not just afraid. Darth Plagueis is _terrified_ of you."

"But why?"

"Because," Tenebrous began, "You are more powerful than he is. Or very soon will be. You have already advanced further than most learners do in years of formal training. You have mastered powers even Masters find a challenge. And that on top of the fact that you both can only devote _half_ of your lives to training. You are remarkable," Tenebrous said. "Your power is, to my knowledge, unprecedented.

"Hego sees what you could become and how quickly you can achieve it." He paused a moment. "Do you know your master's greatest fear?"

Palpatine thought a moment. "I've sensed all these things you're telling me," he admitted. "If he's afraid of me, holding me back, he must be afraid that I'll surpass him quicker than he'd like, that he'll no longer be of any use to me. At that point, I'll have to kill him. So I would guess that _death_ is his greatest fear."

Tenebrous nodded in approval. _This one is sharp_, he thought. "Very good, boy. Very good indeed. Yes," he said, "Hego's greatest fear is death. That is why he performs his perverse experiments, delves into areas of the Force that even the greatest Dark Lords haven't dared to explore. The day he killed me, he saw his own mortality laid out before him. He saw how easily I was killed and it terrified him. He has since been tirelessly searching for the secret."

"The secret?" Palpatine asked.

"The secret of immortality," Tenebrous said gravely. "And as I understand it, he is very close to finding it. But he fears, and quite rightly, that you will out grow your need for him before he is successful."

"I'm still unsure why you're telling me all this," Palpatine said cautiously.

"You are the key to destroying the Jedi," Tenebrous explained. "I have felt it and so has Hego. But his selfish desire to live forever has clouded his judgment. Instead of training you to the best of his abilities to ensure the Order sees glory once again, he holds you back. You cannot let him. I am telling you to continue your private studies. Fill in the gaps that he leaves to the best of your ability. I am telling you to make his fear a reality. Become that which he is so afraid of. And when the time finally comes, kill him."

"He's like a father to me," Palpatine said. "He was there for me when my family was killed."

Suddenly their surroundings changed. They were in a relatively empty terminal in the Theed spaceport. Three Human men ran by. Palpatine looked back in the direction they'd come and saw that they were being pursued by a Jedi. _The_ Jedi. Sifo-dyas.

"Syler! Redek!" called one of the men. "Flank him! He can't block _all_ our shots!"

"Stop!" yelled the Jedi, adding emphasis with the Force. "You are under arrest! Drop your weapons!"

The three Humans split up, two running to the far ends of the terminal with the third staying out in the open. All three drew their weapons and fired.

The Jedi dove. As he hit the ground, he rolled to his feet and ignited his lightsaber. Two bolts smacked the stone floor just centimeters from his feet. He managed to deflect several shots safely into the ground before the intensity of the fire increased. He was forced to run for cover behind a large marble sculpture. Chunks of rock pelted him as blaster bolts pulverized the statue and the ground around it.

Palpatine could see the Jedi look around the terminal at his options. He saw the Jedi stop and stare at something. He followed his gaze up to the ceiling, where a larger pipe snaked through the entire section. He saw that the lead Human was standing directly below the pipe and he instantly knew what the Jedi was thinking.

Before Palpatine could utter a sound, the Jedi leapt ten meters into the air, twisting and turning midair to avoid the hail of blaster fire tracking him. He landed and began to deflect them into the pipe. A section about one meter long started to glow red then ruptured. Flame spewed out of the pipe and caught the Human unawares. His shrill scream filled the air as he ran around frantically trying to put out the flames. Before the other two could react, the entire terminal shook as a massive secondary explosion ripped through the long corridor and blasted the walls outward, sending stone masonry hurtling through the air.

The last thing Palpatine saw was a man shielding a woman as the ceiling collapsed on top of them, burying them with hundreds of tons of stone debris. The Jedi lay nearby, his tunic smoking from a dozen small burns. He groggily picked himself up and looked at the scene in horror as sirens and alarms blared.

The scene dissolved again into the serene Naboo plains.

"Why did you show me that?" Palpatine demanded with tears in his eyes.

"That was the Jedi who killed your family," Tenebrous said. "If you continue to allow your master to hold you back, how can you expect to avenge their deaths? You _do_ wish for the Jedi to pay?"

"Yes," Palpatine snarled. "I want them _all_ to pay."

"Then you know what you must do." Without warning, Tenebrous and Naboo disappeared. He opened his eyes and he was back in his apartment, still sitting suspended midair. According to his chrono, he'd been there for two and a half minutes. _That_, Palpatine thought, _is enough for today._

In the weeks that followed Tenebrous's vision, Palpatine had followed the deceased master's instructions. He continued his private studies, gradually intensifying them. He was now much more aware of Plagueis' withholdings than he had been before.

It was during one of his private lessons with Master Lycan's holocron that a chime came at his door. Puzzled, he quickly spirited the holocron back to its safe spot and answered the door. He was surprised to see his master standing on his front step; he hadn't sensed the Sith Lord's approach.

"Master! Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Come with me," Plagueis' tone conveyed no emotion whatsoever.

Palpatine did as he was told and followed Plagueis to a small speeder. Plagueis was already settling down into the driver's seat when Palpatine arrived.

"Where are we going, Master?"

"Get in," Plagueis said cryptically. Convinced he wasn't going to receive the answer he was looking for, Palpatine obediently climbed into the passenger seat and in moments, they were soaring through the early evening air.

They flew in silence for twenty minutes, entering an area of the city that Palpatine was unfamiliar with. Abruptly, Plagueis set the speeder into a heart-stopping dive. Palpatine had to will himself not to ask the question that threatened to explode out of his mouth: Have you gone mad!?

Plagueis stopped the speeder several hundred meters from the undercity level, one of the oldest, most dangerous sections of the city. Completely lawless, the undercity had been forgotten tens of millennia ago. It was ruled by gangs and monsters that dominated the nightmares of the children in the upper civilized levels.

"Master," Palpatine began to ask, "what—"

Before he could finish his question, Plagueis had grabbed him by the throat and heaved him over the side of the speeder. He managed to grab on to the side, looking up into his master's eyes and feeling the cold stab of betrayal in his gut.

Plagueis looked down at him. "I expect you back in one day," he said. "If you survive," he added coldly. Without another word, he gave Palpatine a strong shove with the Force and watched as he fell forever into the blackness.

Palpatine heard a scream as he fell. It was several seconds before he realized it was his own. Wind whipped past his ears, deafening him. The ground was rushing up at him fast. Too fast. He tried to use the Force to slow his descent but found it difficult to focus. Suddenly, he felt an odd sensation just before he was put through a gut-wrenching stop just meters above the ground level. He looked around and saw three large spherical objects floating above him. _Of course_, he thought. Coruscant was patrolled by billions of droids fitted with tractor beams in the event that someone or something should fall from a speeder, rooftop, or landing pad. Of course his master had anticipated that. Which meant that he was meant to survive the fall. _In this part of the city_, Palpatine thought, _it would have been kinder to let me fall._

As the droids lowered him gently to the ground, he had time to think. _This must be a test_, he thought. _I was supposed to survive the fall. I must have to make my way back up._ Plagueis _had_ told him to expect a test. Despite how much he had prepared for it, though, Palpatine still felt afraid, vulnerable. That familiar cold ball of fear began to form in his gut, freezing his blood.

His feet touched ground and the tractor beams were disengaged. Palpatine watched the droids fly away, fear gnawing at his insides. This was a really bad day.

_First things first_, he thought to himself. _Bearings. Where am I?_ He looked around but didn't recognize anything. Not that he could see much down that far. Dim artificial lights that had shown for over ninety thousand years offered very little in the way of illumination. He decided to start walking, because the longer he stood in one place, the more attention he drew to himself. And in the undercity, attention was the last thing you wanted to have.

He'd only walked a short ways when he sensed them. He was being followed by several beings, four at least. He kept walking, not letting on that he knew. After perhaps a hundred meters, the beings decided it was time to make themselves known. From somewhere off to Palpatine's right, a bottle flew and smashed at his feet.

"_Bona nai kachu, ootman!"_ yelled a high pitched voice from the same direction the bottle had flown from.

Palpatine buried his fear. He was powerful in the Force. He could stop these beings. "Who is there?" he called out. "I'm warning you, you don't want to fight me!"

He heard several laughs.

"_Kopa tonka!"_ called out the same voice.

"I don't understand Huttese. Speak Basic," he commanded with all the authority he could muster. Palpatine was doing his best to gain control of the situation.

"'E said 'put up yor 'ands,' mate," came a new voice from somewhere off to his left. "An' I'd sugges' you lis'ned to 'im. 'E's got a bit o' an itchy trigger finger. Well," he laughed, "'e's a Rodian, so I s'pose 'e's got itchy suckers, don' 'e? Anyway, friend, you c'operate an' you _may_ jus' come out o' this alive."

Palpatine humored the gang and put his hands up. The Rodian stepped forward out of the shadows. His tattered jumpsuit looked to have once been orange but was now faded and stained a muddy brown. A scar traced its way down his bumpy green face. Dim light gleamed off of his hard chitinous eyes

"_Kee chai chai cun kuta?"_ he said.

A Human man, just a few years older than Palpatine, stepped out of the darkness. "Gronk 'ere wants to know what yor doin' 'ere all by yor lonesome."

"You can tell your bug-eyed friend there that I don't cooperate with trash who don't see fit to learn Basic." Palpatine felt the icy ball of fear start to melt.

"_Da beesga coo palyeeya pityee bo tenya go kaka juju hoopa!__"_ the Rodian shrieked and raised a nasty looking blaster, pointing it directly at Palpatine's face.

"Aw," said the Human, "you _really_ shouldn' o' said that. Wha' 'e jus' said was to'ally true. Wasn' pretty. Big mess."

Palpatine kept his eyes on the Rodian. "And just what are you going to do about it?"

On cue, the remaining two gang members, another Human male and a teal-skinned female Twi'lek, came forward, each holding a weapon of some kind.

The first Human said, "We're gonna leave yor broken body 'ere fo' the Cthons to gnaw on, _ootman_."

Palpatine smiled. This whole time, he'd been building his energies. "You're certainly free to try."

"Get him!" yelled the Twi'lek and all four moved in to attack.

Palpatine, hands still raised, waited until the four were just meters away before releasing the vast store of energy he'd built up. A blinding torrent of Dark Side energy poured out from his fingertips and radiated out around him. All four assailants were struck with the Dark Lightning and blown backward several meters.

Winded, the Rodian got to his feet. _"Jeedi!"_

Palpatine turned to look at him. "Wrong," he said as he used the Force to launch a stray piece of durasteel debris through the gangster's chest like a javelin. The Rodian issued a surprised squeak before dropping to the ground dead.

"He killed Gronk!" called the second Human. "Let's shred this Kath hound!"

The first Human had gotten to his feet and was leveling a small holdout blaster in Palpatine's direction. "Yor dead, friend," he said as he pulled the trigger.

Faster than a Human can perceive, Palpatine used the Force to block the bolts with broken bits of duracrete. Then he threw the chunks of building material at the Twi'lek, who was reaching for the vibroblade strapped to her thigh. The sickening crunch that echoed through the dark told Palpatine that her gang life was over.

All fear was gone now. He was in his element, taking command of the Dark Side and controlling it expertly. He had already easily dispatched half of a gang who had likely killed dozens of unlucky travelers unfortunate enough to wander down into their territory. He was unstoppable!

Palpatine was brought back into reality when a line of fire traced its way across the back of his left shoulder and the side of his neck. The second Human had retrieved the dead Twi'lek's vibroblade and thrown it at him. The knife had only just grazed him, but had made enough contact to leave a nasty cut in its wake. He hissed in pain and anger.

"That hurt," he growled. He made a motion towards the Human who had thrown the vibroblade and a wet snap bounced off the nearby buildings. The man fell unmoving to the ground. The remaining gangster looked around at the bodies of his comrades and looked very, very scared.

"Look, mate," he said, his voice trembling. "We can work som'fing out, yeah?"

"No." Palpatine hurled volley of the deadly lightning into the man's chest. He was thrown back several meters and landed in a smoking heap. He stood for a moment, drinking in the death he'd wrought. It was power unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

Word must have traveled ahead of him because for the rest of the day, Palpatine didn't so much as see another being. The feeling was indescribable, knowing that he had instilled so much fear in these creatures. Their terror fueled him. He soaked in it, breathed it in. He fed off of it. He knew that his trip back to his master's apartment would be utterly uneventful.

Plagueis sat in silence, allowing the first rays of morning light to creep into the apartment. He'd been awake all night, waiting for his apprentice. He had taken a big risk doing what he'd done. But if the boy survived, Plagueis would name him. He wouldn't have done it unless he was confident he would return. His hope was to instill some of that confidence in his Apprentice.

Several hours before, he'd felt a very subtle disturbance in the Force. His pursuit to find the key to stopping death had left him with a strong connection with it. He'd sensed the deaths of the four gangsters, the rage of his apprentice, and the fear of the inhabitants of the undercity. Sensing the fear of the bottom dwellers was the only way to track the boy's progress. Palpatine's suppression of his presence, even when using the Force, was total now. The boy was remarkable.

As the sun crept higher in the sky, the room brightened, melting the shadows away and revealing Palpatine standing in a corner. He was covered in dirt and grime and dried blood was caked on his neck from a small wound.

"Good morning, Master," he croaked dryly.

Plagueis jerked his head around, startled. "Remarkable," he whispered.

"Have I passed your test, Master?" Palpatine asked, not bothering to mask his anger. "I've killed this day. I have instilled fear in my enemies. So tell me, Master, have I passed?"

"Yes, Apprentice. You have passed."

"Good," Palpatine said, finally allowing himself to feel the exhaustion that had been weighing him down for hours. Without another word, he left the room, leaving Plagueis alone with his thoughts.

_Today is a momentous day_, Plagueis reminded himself. He was just returning from a particularly grueling session of Congress. He was amazed how stubborn and childlike senators could be. It was all he could do to not slaughter them all in a fit of rage. All day he'd been trapped inside the Convocation Chamber with over two thousand other senators, all with a slightly different take on the matter being debated. It was enough to choke a Hutt. Yet he managed to get through the political muck by keeping firm grasp of one thought: on this day exactly one year before, he had invited his personal aide into his home and offered him a whole new world, one where the Jedi would be eradicated. One year ago, that boy had accepted. And over the course of this last year, he had grown immeasurably in power. Tonight, he told himself, he would welcome in the newest Sith Lord. Tonight, Palpatine would be named.

Plagueis smiled to himself, sitting back in the comfortable passenger seat of his droid-chauffeured speeder. He was very impressed with his Apprentice. Plagueis' awe of the boy eclipsed the dread which had constantly nagged at his mind for the last several months. He suppressed his fear and instead thought of the powerful tool he was crafting. Palpatine was the perfect student. He was brilliant, he was attentive, and he was eager to learn. Plagueis was sure that the young man was many years ahead of where he realistically should be. His ability to master even the most complex techniques had allowed him to tear through his training at a blinding speed.

The old Sith suspected, but couldn't prove, that his Apprentice was studying between training sessions. Plagueis couldn't explain the boy's advancement any other way. Though, he admitted to himself, he couldn't see where he could find the time. In addition to his training, Palpatine was also the personal aide of Plagueis' alter ego, Senator Hego Damask. Between the two careers, he couldn't imagine his Apprentice having time for much more than a few hours' sleep at night. He never seemed ill rested. _Perhaps my paranoia is catching up to my age_, he thought only half amused.

The speeder began to slow as it approached the enormous Five Hundred Republica building complex. It settled down on the rooftop landing area as a leaf floats to rest on the surface of a pond. _Marvelous creations, droids_, Plagueis thought to himself. _I imagine some day they'll even fight our wars for us._

Plagueis entered his lavish home expecting to find his apprentice in deep meditation but instead found only a quiet, empty apartment. He stretched out with his senses, felt nothing. Palpatine had become adept at shrinking his presence so efficiently in on itself that it was now impossible to sense him even standing right beside him. He was once again the void in the Force that he was when Plagueis had first encountered him. Even Plagueis couldn't hide his presence _that_ well. It was unsettling for him to turn around and see his apprentice just standing there, completely undetectable. But, he told himself, if he couldn't sense his own apprentice while standing beside him, the Jedi certainly couldn't detect him from the Temple.

Plagueis entered the guest room he allowed Palpatine to utilize during his studies and noticed a small table littered with various bits of electronic debris. Some metal casing, wires, components from half a dozen cannibalized appliances. He smiled to himself. He knew this day would come and it seemed a happy coincidence that it should come _this_ most important day. _It would appear_, he thought, _that my young Apprentice is constructing his lightsaber._ He allowed himself a slight chuckle. It seemed as though the Sith really would have their revenge after all.

Plagueis stepped into his own bedroom, stripping off the ornate and excruciatingly uncomfortable formalwear he was forced to don every day. It was an ill-fitting mask he presented to the world, but he hid his discomfort well. He was liked well enough in the Senate, a bit liberal for some, but he had, as far as he knew, no enemies. Yet. Little did any of the squabbling children know that as they pleasantly chit-chatted with the delightfully paternal Hego Damask, just beneath the surface, Darth Plagueis wished for nothing more than the opportunity to cut them down and leave their smoking corpses on the Senate floor.

He changed into the much more comfortable robes of Darth Plagueis. He slipped on his rare Rancor leather boots and clipped his belt tightly around his waist. Securing his lightsaber on its clasp, he pinned the robe together with an ornate antique broach and raised his hood. Before leaving in search of his apprentice, he strode over to a small Corellian painting, an abstract that looked like a holo of an explosion, captured in every wavelength of light superimposed on top of one another. The effect was really quite beautiful and a little eerie. Plagueis gingerly traced a finger over some of the lines. Then he placed a hand on the top most part of the frame and gently slid the painting down the wall, revealing a small safe. There were no external mechanisms with which to unlock the safe, for it was built specifically so that only a Force user could access it. He manipulated the internal locks, entering the right combination, and heard the soft click of the door unlocking. It swung open to reveal a few expensive pieces of jewelry, an old roll of parchment, and a small package, perhaps the size of a credit chip and wrapped in rough brown and faded fabric of some kind. He reached in and retrieved the package and closed the door, replaced the painting, then left the room.

Plagueis stood quietly as he waited for the turbolift to make its long journey over three kilometers up from beneath the planet's bedrock. He now knew for certain that Palpatine was down in the training chamber. The lift would have otherwise been already waiting up there instead of down in the subterranean chamber.

The door slid open with a hiss and the Sith Lord stepped inside. The turbolift hummed as it shot straight down at speeds that would kill most creatures were it not for the powerful inertial dampers. The whole three thousand meter trip took less than a quarter of a minute. It stopped at the ground floor and opened into the great training facility that had seen seven Sith and would soon see its eighth.

Just as he'd expected, Palpatine was in the center of the chamber. He appeared to be deep in meditation, hovering cross-legged a meter above the floor, which was strewn with debris identical to that which Plagueis had seen in the young man's room. Suspended in air just in front of Palpatine was a cylindrical object, his nearly completed lightsaber. It was relatively simple, only his first. It was around twenty centimeters long, a bit shorter than the average hilt. It appeared to be constructed out of speeder parts, though the outer casing looked suspiciously similar to the alloy skin of Plagueis' combat droids. A form of payback for that first night, perhaps.

Plagueis noticed the wound on Palpatine's neck from his test in the undercity days before. This puzzled him because he knew his apprentice was capable of healing wounds like that in hours. Perhaps he was keeping it as a trophy, though Plagueis doubted it would scar.

"I have a gift for you, Apprentice." He reached into his robes and produced the small fabric-swaddled object.

Palpatine slowly opened his eyes. He lowered himself to the ground and took the floating lightsaber in front of him. "What is it, Master?"

Ever since his test, he'd been very quiet, not speaking to Plagueis unless necessary.

_Good,_ Plagueis thought. _His personal attachment to me was a weakness._

"I was saving it for the day that you would construct your first lightsaber. It appears as if today is that day." He offered the package to his apprentice, who accepted it.

Palpatine examined the object, wrapped in what appeared to be very old fabric of some kind. He unwrapped it, revealing a small red crystal.

"This," Plagueis said, "is the focusing crystal taken from the lightsaber of Darth Bane himself. It has been passed down from Master to Apprentice for the last twenty generations of Sith. It is my honor to give it to you."

Palpatine's mouth was agape. To be holding the crystal that once resided in Darth Bane's lightsaber…it was beyond an honor to receive. "Thank you, Master," he said with genuine sincerity. "I only hope that I can live up to its legacy."

"If anyone ever will, Apprentice," Plagueis said, "it will be you. As the former owner of this crystal was the bane of the Sith, so, too, will you be the bane of the Jedi."

Palpatine used the Force to hold both the lightsaber and the crystal. He slowly joined the two together and sealed the hilt. Using the Force to make some final important internal adjustments, he then lowered the completed weapon into his hand.

"It is time, Apprentice. Let us hope it was constructed properly." Plagueis smiled slyly. "We wouldn't want it to explode."

Palpatine wrinkled his brow. "I'm not sure I see the humor in that, Master." In spite of himself, allowed himself a tight smirk. The Sith said to be the one to finally bring ruin to the Jedi atomized when his ill-constructed lightsaber detonated in his hand. He could see the dark irony in that. "Here it goes," he muttered quietly to himself. He thumbed the activator switch and the scarlet blade sprang to life. Hearing the hum, Palpatine beamed with pride. "I did it."

Both men stood quietly a moment, eyes transfixed on the glowing blade.

"You have, indeed," said Plagueis finally. He thumped his apprentice proudly on the shoulder. "You have passed the final test. You will be named."

Palpatine snapped his head up, breaking his attention away from the lit weapon. He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. "Named? I-I'm a Dark Lord?"

Plagueis shook his head curtly. "Not quite," he said, giving Palpatine's shoulder a squeeze. "But you will be very soon. In this last year, you have grown powerful."

Palpatine deactivated the lightsaber and held out a hand; blue energy arced between his fingers. "Yes," he said. "I have."

Plagueis frowned. "I have warned you against that, Apprentice. Overuse can lead to gross deformation. Use _only_ in moderation!" Plagueis could already see that his apprentice would rely more on the Force than the lightsaber. He was shaping up to be an extremely talented swordsman, but his increasing mastery of every Force technique he had encountered was astounding_._

Palpatine closed his fist, staunching the flow of energy. "What will I be called, Master?" he asked. "What is my name?"

"Follow me and we shall find out together," Plagueis answered mysteriously. He turned and walked back to the lift, apprentice in tow.

The journey back up to the apartment was made in silence, though Plagueis could feel the anxiety rolling off of his apprentice in strong waves. He found himself equally anxious. After all, this was as big a moment for the Master as it was the Apprentice. He couldn't help but feel that he was signing his own death warrant, sealing his fate in stone by promoting Palpatine to the rank of Sith Lord. He glanced sideways at the boy and saw the healing cut on his neck. _He's earned his title_, Plagueis thought despite himself. _I can still limit his growth after he is named. Everything will be fine._

The lift came to a halt and opened into the apartment. "Go to your room," Plagueis instructed. "I must prepare for the ceremony."

Palpatine gave his master an obedient nod and disappeared into the guest room. Plagueis continued on to his own chambers and opened the hidden safe again, this time retrieving the rolled piece of parchment. He unfurled it and gave it a glance. Harsh script, written in the ancient and dead language of the Sith, was hand-printed on the old paper. Few could understand just how precious this old, worn scrap of parchment truly was. It was the very scroll upon which Darth Bane himself had scribbled the Rule of Two during his long study of Darth Revan's teachings. The parchment itself had been imbued with the Dark Side to ensure its survival through the centuries. It had been passed down, or more accurately, acquired through murder and betrayal, over the last one thousand years. And it was now Plagueis' turn to read its wise words and bring into the galaxy the newest Sith Lord.

He closed the safe and went into the front room. With a single gesture he simultaneously drew all the shades, moved the furniture back against the walls, and dimmed the lights. From across the room, he opened a cabinet and retrieved several candles, which floated to him in the middle of the floor. He laid them out around in a circle roughly three meters in diameter. With an impressive display of power, he lit each candle in unison, bathing the room in an eerie dancing light that only served to deepen the shadows.

Plagueis took a deep breath. It was time. He raised his hood. "Boy," he called out. "Your time is at hand."

A moment later, Palpatine appeared from the shadows. He had changed into more traditional Sith robes. Whether or not he realized it, his whole life had led up to this point. He was Sith now.

"Step into the circle, Apprentice," Plagueis told him. "And kneel before me."

Palpatine did as he was told. He lowered his gaze to the floor in respect and anticipation. A moment later, he felt Plagueis' long bony fingers resting on the back of his head, the icy cold of the Muun's skin cutting through the thick material of his hood.

"Today you shall be named," Plagueis' buzzing voice rang out. Palpatine thought he heard a strange omnipotence to it, a tinny echo as though it were issuing from every corner of the room at once. Then his master began to read in a language he didn't understand but recognized instinctively as Ancient Sith.

"_Et manu Korribanos caton Mastus._

_Je Lordo Darthae Plageus hameh._

_V dapota e Sith'ari._

_Palimano eh Bogan del notan_

_er mis_._Bostne mi tonda el."_

Palpatine squeezed his eyes shut and felt the Force flowing strongly through him. His mind raced as Plagueis continued:

"_Et manu Korribanos caton Mastus._

_Je mis un pecto e Talio vi_

_Luexo manu es Sithu. Mi Lueme_

_v nixt e stapani der Luexo hort._

_Mi Sithu._

"_Et manu Korribanos caton Mastus._

_Ste ne Tamid di e quaro Luexo_

_E mis v Luemo Stert ex."_

Palpatine felt as though the Force were shimmering around him, saturating him with the Dark Side. He could feel it penetrating his very soul, instilling him with all of its raw power, giving him the strength to destroy the Jedi.

Plagueis closed his eyes. This was it.

"I'm impressed, Hego," Lord Tenebrous's metallic voice echoed inside Plagueis' head.

Plagueis opened his eyes to see the familiar swirling black fog. And his old master standing before him. How in the stars did he get here?

"Your confusion is not unexpected," said Tenebrous half amused. "You were never much of a student. I wouldn't expect you to actually know how things work."

"What are you doing here?" Plagueis demanded. "My Apprentice is being named. This couldn't wait?"

Tenebrous scoffed. "You ignorant Kath pup!" he spat. "I am here _because_ of the Naming. I am your liaison to the Will of the Force. Just how were you expecting to name him? Did you think you would pull a name out of the air? String together the first syllables that came to mind and bestow it upon he who has the potential to be the most powerful of us all?"

Plagueis stuttered a moment. "I-I mean, I didn't—"

"No," Tenebrous interrupted, "you didn't. But now is not the time to berate you on your abhorrent understanding of our ways. This moment is for your Apprentice, for the Order of the Sith itself. For this occasion and this occasion alone, I shall even overlook the fact that the ceremony is being held in your _home_ instead of the Chamber of Names in the Valley of the Dark Lords. You call upon the Masters of Korriban when you know they have no power here. No, Hego, I won't judge you on that. The boy is what is important."

"I thank you ever so," said Plagueis dryly. "So what am I supposed—"

"Shut _up_, boy!" Tenebrous stopped him. "For once, shut up and _listen_. The boy, he is strong. Oh yes, he is strong. He _is_ the One. The Force, it knows. It can see the events of the future and it tells me that he _is_ the future. He will decimate the Jedi, but not through brute force. No," Tenebrous said, shaking his head and grinning behind his breather. "No, brute force is below him. He is elegant, an artist. He works with a laser-scalpel, not a vibro-axe. He will defeat them with his incredible mind. He will be right under their noses and they will never know it. Until it is too late. He will hide in plain sight, appear innocuous. And he will be the bane of the Jedi. They will know his name before they die. They will know of Darth," he paused half a beat before saying the name, "_Sidious_."

Reality rushed back to Plagueis like a ship exiting hyperspace. Palpatine was looking up at him. He must have noticed the unusual silence.

"Master?" he began.

Plagueis ignored him, instead boomed:

"_Et manu Korribanos caton Mastus._

_Heli Sithu ponus Darthae Sydyus._

_Su mi quat ne hoteme pulis!"_

He looked down and met his apprentice's eyes, which had become watery pools of yellow rimmed in blood red.

"Rise," he said. "Rise, _Darth Sidious_."


	4. Chapter 4

"_In more troubling news,"_ the attractive young HoloNet newswoman said, _"tragedy has struck the Jedi Temple today. Sometime early this morning, nineteen-year-old Yam'a H'suoy, a Togorian Jedi Padawan, fell three hundred meters to his death during his trials to become a Jedi Knight in an area of the city known as colloquially as The Works. High ranking Council member Master Yoda, the young Jedi's Master, had this to say."_

The image changed to that of a tiny, wrinkled creature with large pointed ears and small tufts of white hair on an otherwise bald head. He looked almost comical. _"Disturbing, this is,"_ he said in a gruff voice filled with great sadness. _"A gifted Padawan, H'suoy was. Clumsy, he was not."_

"_Master Yoda, are you saying you don't believe this to be an accident?"_ the interviewer asked.

Yoda chose his words carefully. _"Many enemies, the Jedi have. At this time, rule out nothing, we will. Including foul play. All I have to say, that is."_

The image switched back to the female news anchor.

"_We wish them all the best here at the Coruscant News Network,"_ she said. _"Now, as for our weath—"_

Plagueis angrily slammed his fist down on the HoloNet receiver, ending its broadcast forever. _He's gone too far this time,_ he thought to himself.

"Boy!" he roared, allowing his anger to flood the apartment. He sensed mild irritation come from somewhere deep in the Sith Lord's home. A few moments later, his apprentice appeared, acting as if he didn't even notice his master's fury.

"Yes, Master?" he asked innocently.

"Explain yourself!" Plagueis demanded. He slammed his apprentice, newly named Darth Sidious, back into a wall with the Force, pinning him there by the throat.

"I—," Sidious struggled to speak, "I-I don't underst—"

"Do not try my patience, Sidious! You will explain to me why you killed that Padawan and why I had to see it on the Coruscant News Network's evening broadcast!" He released Sidious' throat but kept him pinned to the wall with a strong Force grip.

"Is it not enough that he was Jedi?" answered Sidious, now in a rage. "Is that not our purpose, _Master_?" he spat. "To destroy the Jedi?"

Plagueis' anger swelled. It had been months since he had named his apprentice, and since that time, Sidious had become more and more arrogant. And more audacious in his willfulness. Well that just wouldn't do. Plagueis would remind him of his place.

"You are a fool of a Sith, Sidious!" He extended a hand and speared Sidious' body with deadly lightning. The young man cried out in pain and fury. "We have survived these last thousand years because we _keep to the shadows!_" Plagueis said. He relented the attack. "I have been too soft on you, boy. But no more." He released his grip on the young Sith, who dropped to his knees, smoke wafting up from his charred clothing. "Starting now, your life is about to become very difficult.

"_Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you_," he quoted the ancient Sith proverb. "_Tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you._"

Sidious stood up silent, glaring sabers at the old Muun. Finally, he lowered his head in submission. "Yes, Master," he said softly.

"Good," Plagueis said, regaining his composure. "For your actions, you will be punished. Severely. You may be named, Sidious, but your place is still as my Apprentice."

Head still down, Sidious muttered, "Yes, Master."

"What was that?"

Sidious looked up, looking Plagueis square in the eye. "I said, 'yes, Master.'"

"You have become insolent, insubordinate. You must relearn your place in this world."

Suddenly, Sidious was plunged into darkness. A terrible howling wind surrounded him, deafening him. He considered for a moment that Plagueis had killed him and that this was Chaos, the netherworld of the Dark Side. He discontinued the thought when his master's voice rang out in the darkness, booming and god-like.

"You will humble yourself before your Master, Lord Sidious," he rumbled. "There is much I could do to you that will leave you far from death but wishing for it."

Sidious tried to bring his hands up to cover his ears and found himself inexplicably restrained. He struggled against his invisible bonds but to no avail. He was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak. Locked in his own mind, only able to listen to the maddening, horrible howl that resonated around this hellish place, this vast expanse of Emptiness. In this place, he was as good as dead. His life, his will, was not his own. He could touch nothing, affect nothing. He began to hyperventilate, to feel claustrophobic in spite of the unending void around him. He experienced vertigo; he felt like he'd been shoved out an airlock into deep space, destined to float through the Never for all eternity. He'd never felt this helpless in his life.

This was Plagueis' nightmare, his own vision of death. His fear. A fear he passed on to his Apprentice that day. Sidious, for all of his power, was terrified. He knew that he could never allow this to happen again. He would study harder, bow to Plagueis' wishes. He would forge himself into a being of such power that he would stave off death indefinitely. Yes, he thought. Never again. I'll never be this powerless again. Never.

Sidious bowed his head as Plagueis entered the room. That horrible punishment weeks before had humbled him, much to Plagueis' satisfaction. He kept his eyes diverted to the floor until his master addressed him.

"Come," Plagueis said after several moments. "It is time for your lightsaber drills."

Sidious said nothing, simply nodded and followed his master to the hidden turbolift. He had recently mastered deflecting low-powered blaster fire from small, spherical training remotes as well as dueling against specially modified droids, trained with electrostaffs capable of combating against a lightsaber blade.

Sidious' training had now progressed to live sparring with his master as well. Though the blades were powered down significantly, they could still leave a nasty burn if one were to miss a block. Pain, Sidious had found, was excellent motivation to not make mistakes.

Plagueis had become increasingly harder on Sidious, all trace of the paternal warmth now gone from their relationship. When Sidious failed, he was no longer coddled and told to try harder the next time. For the first time, he felt that he was being properly trained. It had always been his opinion that his master was being far too soft with him, making things just a little too easy. And a Sith's life was not meant to be easy. Only through hardships can one become stronger. _Through victory, my chains are broken,_ the Sith Code said, but without hardship and challenge, what was there to snatch victory from?

Sidious was a sick child, spending his days bedridden and learning everything he could get his hands on. Because of that, he had gone to school. Had he not gone to school, his parents would never have been in the Theed spaceport the day they died. And it was their deaths that brought the Sith into his life. Destructive fire, used properly, strengthens durasteel. Finally, after a year of apprenticeship, he was being forged into a powerful being.

The Sith Lords stepped into the great training chamber and silently entered the sparring circle. Plagueis had begun to teach his apprentice the various lightsaber forms. Currently there were seven forms, each potentially taking a lifetime to master and each designed to counter a very specific style of combat. Plagueis was showing Sidious basic elements of each form, allowing his apprentice to choose whichever form felt most natural. They had recently been through the first four forms and Sidious was fascinated with them all.

"Can I not master _all_ of them, Master?" he had asked Plagueis in the beginning.

Plagueis had raised an smooth grey brow. "I don't believe such a thing could be possible," he said. "You can master multiple forms, of course. But _all_ of them? Impossible. It can take a lifetime to master _one_."

That had just served to strengthen Sidious' determination. He didn't like to be told something was beyond his capabilities. With the Force at his command, _nothing_ was imposible.

"Form I," Plagueis had instructed weeks before, "or _Shii-Cho_, is the most ancient and basic of forms. It is lumbering, it lacks finesse, but it can be powerful. The goal of a Form I master is to disarm, effectively ending the duel." Plagueis had shown Sidious several Form I moves. To Sidious, it had appeared to be raw, savage. Plagueis was taking wild, powerful swipes, like swinging a club. "Form I is best used against multiple opponents," Plagueis said after finishing his demonstration. "When faced with but one opponent, Shii-Cho is all but useless."

Plagueis instructed Sidious to activate one of the sparring droids. "Form II, Makashi, is a form specifically designed to duel against lightsabers." The droid clomped its way into the sparring circle and brandished its electrostaff. Plagueis held his lightsaber in his left hand, pointing it down to the floor at his side. The droid engaged Plagueis with a powerful downward cut. The Sith Lord effortlessly brought his lightsaber up to block, shuffling forward a few steps and forcing the droid into a retreat. Plagueis' strikes were neat, precise, almost surgical. Sidious noted that the form was almost entirely one-handed.

Plagueis did a small flourish then struck the droid in its chest faster than Sidious could perceive. "Makashi is an elegant, refined form," Plagueis said, extinguishing his blade. "It is as deadly as it is beautiful. Its graceful motions and precision moves make it a very difficult form to master, requiring intense focus throughout the battle. It's an outdated form, created before blaster weapons were commonplace, so it is not ideal for deflecting blaster fire. As a result, use of Form II is very rare. Although," he noted, "I recently witnessed a young Jedi Master called Dooku participating in a public lightsaber demonstration. It appeared that he had mastered Makashi to the highest degree I have ever seen, so it is not entirely extinct.

"Now," Plagueis began, "for all of its strengths, Makashi is riddled with weak points. Pure Makashi cannot cope with the power of later forms and can be easily defeated."

"Then why does that one Jedi use it, Master?" Sidious had asked. "It seems folly to employ such a weak form."

"He seemed to have modernized the form," Plagueis explained. "Form II is traditionally inefficient against multiple attackers yet this Master Dooku was effortlessly combating against four opponents. As I said, he has mastered it beyond anyone I've ever seen. He is a true Makashi master, even choosing to use a very rare hooked lightsaber. The curved hilt helps the duelist perform more fluid motions and adds great power to downward strikes as well as allowing the duelist to strike from unexpected angles."

"What is your opinion of Makashi, Master?" Sidious inquired.

Plagueis raised a brow. "In the right hands, I believe it to be the greatest of all the forms," he admitted. "However, even in all my years, I have been unable to fully grasp its intricacies.

"Now," he said, "Form III, Soresu, is purely defensive. It relies solely on allowing your opponent to tire themselves out attacking you while you wait for an opening to present itself."

Sidious scoffed. "A form based on inaction?"

"I was using Soresu when you received that," Plagueis nodded to the fading scar on Sidious' right hand. Several weeks before, Plagueis had gotten the better of him and whipped his blade across the back of the young Sith's blade hand.

Sidious said nothing, embarrassed.

"Form III is not a form of inaction, boy. It is a form of _patience_," Plagueis said. "Surely you recognize the advantages of patience?"

"Yes, Master," Sidious grumbled.

"Good." Plagueis activated another droid. He ignited his lightsaber and awaited the droid's attack. For the next several minutes, he demonstrated Soresu, blocking all of the droid's strikes with seemingly very little effort. He stopped, pausing the droid's program. "Soresu was designed in part to deflect blaster bolts from multiple targets. While effective against lightsabers, it is most efficient defending against ranged weapons."

"The final form I will show you today is Form IV, Ataru," Plagueis said. "It is one of the most aggressive of the seven forms and relies very heavily on the Force." He reactivated the droid, which proceeded to attack him. To Sidious' surprise, his master leapt three meters over the droid's head, spinning mid-air to land facing it. It spun around in time to block a powerful downward strike from Plagueis. It jabbed its electrostaff toward the Muun's central heart, missing only when Plagueis back flipped away at the last second. As he flipped, Plagueis' boot caught the droid in its head, causing it to stumble back a few steps and giving the Sith Lord ample time to recover and come back in for another attack. Sidious noted that what Soresu was for defense, Ataru seemed to be for offense. The two dueled half-way across the chamber before Plagueis once again paused the droid's programming and walked back to his apprentice.

Only slightly out of breath, he said, "Ataru is one of the more physically taxing forms. It is all about raw power, heavy blows, and constant motion. A Form IV fighter envelops himself in the Force, allowing him to perform extraordinary feats that would otherwise be impossible," he explained. "Master Yoda uses this form to compensate for both his small stature and his advanced age. To great effect, I might add.

"You may note," he said, "that this duel covered far more ground than the other forms. While Soresu is a very personal form, Ataru is wild and its acrobatic maneuvers leave it dependant on wide open space. Because of its aggressiveness, it's rendered almost useless in confined spaces or against multiple opponents. It's also a very poor guard against ranged weapons. It saps physical strength and weakens considerably during prolonged combat. It is designed to end the battle quickly.

"That will be all for today, Apprentice," Plagueis said. "Soon we will cover the remaining three forms. But for now, I want you to practice the basic offensive/defensive maneuvers I taught you. I've uploaded three new programs into the droids, so you should have a harder time defeating them this time." He allowed himself the barest hint of a grin. For all of his fear of the boy, he was proud of what he'd created. He'd taken a raw, untrained youth and in the span of a year, honed him into a warrior.

That was three weeks ago. Plagueis had been watching his apprentice practice his drills day after day, hour after hour. Sidious' mastery didn't seem possible. The warmth of pride had quickly frozen back over with fear. It was as if the Force were making up for lost time, penalizing him for not having taken an apprentice sooner. He had watched one day as Sidious performed a flawless Makashi maneuver on one of the droids, easily thrusting his lightsaber through the droid's defenses and into its power core. _Where did he learn that?_ Plagueis had wondered. Surely he hadn't done such a complicated move when he was demonstrating the form. So how was Sidious doing it?

Despite his fears, Plagueis pushed on, finally deciding to teach his apprentice the final three forms.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Sidious nodded and looked on, eager to learn.

"Excellent," he said, stepping into his usual place in the sparring circle. "Now, Form V is broken into two aspects: _Shien_, and the newer _Djem So_." Plagueis called a droid, which Sidious noticed held a blaster rifle, as he explained the form. "Shien was designed to be effective defending against blaster fire without compromising the ability to counterattack." Plagueis ignited his saber and stood facing the droid. He held the lightsaber hilt in a tight two-handed grip at about eye level, the blade pointing upwards and behind him. He nodded and the droid began to fire. Plagueis expertly deflected the barrage with a series of flourishes, simultaneously closing the distance between him and the droid with each swing of the blade. With one last swipe, he knocked a bolt up into the ceiling, cleaved the blaster neatly in two, and decapitated the droid. He used the Force to shove the twitching automaton out of the sparring circle. He called two more droids over, both armed with electrostaffs.

"Djem So was the answer to the weaknesses of Soresu," he said as he took guard against his new opponents. "Practitioners of Soresu recognized that it could conceivably take a while for their opponent to tire while all they did was defend. What Djem So does is allow you to defend as efficiently as Soresu but also attack."

The droids flanked him and struck at lightning speed. Plagueis blocked both staffs at once, using the Force to enhance his strength and shove both droids back two steps. Sidious watched as his master relentlessly drove one of the droids back just by the sheer power of his blows. Plagueis ducked as a staff soared through the air where his head had been. The other droid was already there, bringing his staff to bear on Plagueis. He knocked the electrostaff aside with a burst of power and brutally hacked down across the droid's left shoulder, completely bisecting it. The two halves hadn't even clattered to the floor before Plagueis had performed a spectacular circular motion with his blade, removing both of the other droid's arms and one of its legs, dropping it to the floor. In an act of what could have been seen as mercy, he lopped the droid's head off. He turned around to look at his apprentice.

"As you may have noticed," he began, "Djem So is very much like Shien but relies a bit more heavily on brute strength. Many consider Form V to be barbaric, just wild thrashing about. They may be right. But it can be devastatingly affective. It is inefficient against single foes. The form simply crumbles in personal one-on-one combat.

"Form VI," he continued, "is called _Niman_. Niman is unique in that it is not a form unto itself but rather an amalgamation of the five previous forms. It allows the practitioner to utilize certain strengths from the other forms without succumbing to their weaknesses. While that may seem advantageous, it is not without its downfalls. In taking from every other form, it forces the practitioner to spread themselves thinly amongst five forms instead of honing one. Niman is certainly not a weak form, but it does have its disadvantages."

Sidious raised an eyebrow. "Master, are you not going to demonstrate?"

Plagueis shook his head. "No need. Niman is customized to each practitioner. To show you my style would do you no good."

Plagueis gave his humming blade an expert twirl. "The seventh and final lightsaber form is called _Juyo_. It is considered by most to be an incomplete form."

Puzzled, Sidious asked, "Incomplete? What does that mean? How can it be incomplete?"

Plagueis thought a moment for the best way to explain. "It's more of an _outline_ of a form. It has basic principles, mental conditionings, but there aren't any set rules. Observe." He called one last droid over to the sparring circle, the ends of its electrostaff sparking and buzzing. It spun the staff, almost in a taunting gesture, before striking. Plagueis let out a primal yell and leapt with the Force. But not over the droid's head, as Sidious was expecting. The Sith leapt _at_ the droid, bearing down on the droid with a powerful blow from his lightsaber. The droid was actually pushed back several centimeters. It recovered quickly and was able to block all three of Plagueis' seemingly wild strikes. It attacked with an overhead strike that could have bashed Plagueis' brains into mush, but Plagueis' blade was already in place to block. He shoved upwards, disconnecting the two, then hit the droid with a Force blast. It stumbled and fell to the floor. Plagueis leapt and was on it like a hungry quarra on its disabled prey. To Sidious, the form appeared very messy, unfocused. But effective.

Plagueis came down hard, plunging the lightsaber into the droid's chest up to the hilt. He deactivated the blade and clipped it back to his belt, turning to Sidious.

"Tell me your thoughts, Apprentice," he said.

"Alright," Sidious began slowly. "Well, it looked sloppy. You looked wild, aggressive, and unfocused. Were I fighting you, I would have been very confused." His eyes widened in realization. "Oh."

"Exactly," Plagueis said, pleased. "Juyo involves movements that seem random, wild. But in reality are carefully designed to bewilder your opponent. If your moves appear unfocused, they will be harder to predict and defend against."

"That could be dangerous for the practitioner as well, though, Master," Sidious said. "I noticed several times that you left yourself open to an attack."

"Ah, but so chaotic is the style," Plagueis explained, "that few would be focused enough to notice. A Juyo practitioner will have their opponents trying to predict the unpredictable. That leaves them unfocused, makes them clumsy."

"It seems that a form so difficult for its enemies to comprehend would be equally difficult for its practitioners to learn," Sidious commented. "I mean, to design something so that it _appears_ random when in reality it is quite focused is nearly impossible. It's an impressive achievement."

"That is why it is considered incomplete, Lord Sidious," Plagueis said. "The _concept_ is there, but, as you said, it is difficult to convincingly create a pattern that is seemingly random. I'm not sure if I've ever heard of a Juyo master, in fact." He joined his apprentice at the edge of the sparring circle. "Have you decided which form you wish to pursue?"

Sidious shook his head. "No. I'd like to learn more of each of them before I make my decision."

Plagueis tilted his head to the side. "Very well," he said somewhat stiffly. "This facility is equipped with holographic instruction of all seven forms from three of the past Dark Lords. You may study them in greater detail as you please. The program controls are right there," he pointed at a computer terminal against a far wall. "I've got a session of Congress in one hour. I'll be gone most of the day. I expect you to be doing your drills when I return."

Sidious nodded. "Of course, Master."

Without another word, Plagueis made his way to the turbolift and shot back up to the surface.

"Now," Sidious said to himself. "Let's see what the _real_ masters can teach me."

Sidious intended to utilize the training chamber's holographic blademasters every chance he got. The three masters were Darth Talyn, Darth Shado, and the appropriately named Darth Sabre.

He started first with Darth Talyn, the female Ranth he'd seen in Darth Lycan's holocron defending herself against an advancing horde with Force Lightning. He activated the controls, and a life-sized Ranth appeared in the center of the sparring circle.

"How may I be of service, Lord…?" the figure asked in a harsh hiss of a voice.

"Sidious," he replied, realizing that the artificial intelligence must be similar to that in holocrons.

The transparent blue figure, tall and lithe, nodded. "Lord Sidious."

"Which lightsaber form are you most proficient in?" Sidious asked.

"I am an Ataru master," she said, "with a proficiency in Soresu, as well."

Sidious grinned. "Excellent," he said. "I would like to see some Ataru."

The hologram flickered. "As you wish," it said. Her holographic lightsaber ignited and in a move that startled Sidious, she shrieked and leapt, drilling through the air with her blade stretched out before her. She landed and swung away, executing what appeared to be no less than four powerful strikes in the blink of an eye. She leapt backwards, flying high through the air. When she landed, she brought her saber up in a two-handed grip beside her head, the glowing blade pointing straight up just centimeters from her face. A low growl rumbled up from deep within her chest and she began to run. After a few meters, she leapt again, slashing down with a ferocity the likes of which Sidious had never seen. Her animalistic instincts seem to have taken over as she swung again and again, snarling, her blade just a blur.

Sidious stood analyzing her every move, committing them to memory. He watched her grip, her every subtle move. When the program ended, he replayed it again and again. He brought his own lightsaber to bear and attempted to emulate his holographic instructor. He thought of it as learning a dance routine. With every repeat of the routine, he perfected one more move, until after hours of practice, he had learned the whole thing, from the terrifying start to the brutal, animalistic end. He performed it again and again in full until it was muscle memory. Only then did he run the next lesson.

For weeks, Sidious had studied Ataru and Soresu under the tutelage of the holographic Lady of the Sith. She had recorded a total of twenty-three lessons; Sidious tirelessly drilled for hours a day, learning each lesson by heart. Lady Talyn's artificial intelligence seemed impressed. Darth Plagueis, on the other hand, did not.

Plagueis had supervised Sidious' lessons many times over the weeks, never saying a word. He just watched, sometimes for hours, as Sidious honed his skills. There were times that Sidious swore Plagueis had fallen asleep standing, only to wake up minutes later in a noticeably foul mood. He suspected that his master was communing with the deceased Lord Tenebrous during these periods of unconsciousness. He also guessed that Plagueis was less than thrilled with what his old master had to say. Sidious knew that Plagueis was becoming increasingly afraid of him. He didn't fear what Sidious was now; Plagueis was a powerful master in his own right and Sidious wouldn't stand a chance against him. But Plagueis no doubt could predict what Sidious would become. And _that _is what terrified him. That thought always made Sidious smile. _If my Master fears me_, he would think to himself, _then I must be doing something right._

Sidious had just flawlessly repeated Lady Talyn's twenty-third and last lesson.

"Absolutely perfect," she purred. "You have grown much, young one, since you started. I don't believe there is anything else you can learn from me." She raised her holographic hood. "Might I suggest Lady Sabre's lessons next? I think you will appreciate them."

Sidious nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Certainly. Run Sabre's program."

Talyn shimmered out, momentarily leaving Sidious alone within the sparring circle. Then another figure shimmered into place. She was about Sidious' height. Her other features were skewed by her heavy robe. He could, however, see two faintly glowing eyes within the shadows of her hood.

"I am Sabre," she said in a smoky, accented voice. She lowered her hood, revealing her to be a Firrerreo, "Dark Lady of the Sith." Her long canines flashed briefly as she spoke. Though the hologram was a monotone blue, Sidious could make out the tell-tale two-tone coloring of her hair. She blinked her nictitating eyelids at him, awaiting his request.

Sidious bowed respectfully. "Lady Sabre, I seek your martial skills. What form have you to teach me?"

She smiled, again baring her canines. "I am a master of Juyo as well as the Jar'Kai aspect of Niman and the saberstaff."

Flooded with new terms, Sidious cocked his head to the side. "Explain 'Jar'Kai' and 'saberstaff', Lady Sabre."

The Firrerreo nodded. "Jar'Kai refers to combat with two lightsabers." She reached into her robes and produced two glittering cylinders. She ignited them both and went into a complex flourish. The blades seemed to form a sort of blurred cocoon around her. Abruptly, faster than Sidious' eyes could register, she stopped twirling and thrust both blades forward into her imaginary enemy. She extinguished the sabers and shrugged off her robe, exposing her lithe, muscular body wrapped in a strange, tight material. She brought the two hilts together in front of her, holding them together at the pommels. She gave them a little twist and Sidious heard a faint click as they locked together. "A saberstaff," she said as she reignited the blades, "refers to a lightsaber with two opposing blades." She entered into an even more complicated flourish. Her moves were elegant and surprisingly controlled. Sidious couldn't imagine what it must take to become a master of the saberstaff. It looked incredibly dangerous for the user; one wrong move could end up bisecting them or taking their own head off.

"What would you like to learn?" she asked once she'd finished her demonstration.

"All of it," Sidious said. "The Juyo, the Jar'Kai, and the saberstaff. I want to learn it all."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's very ambitious of you."

Sidious had retrieved two practice blades for the Jar'Kai training. "My master thinks I'm a fool."

"Why is that?"

"Because," Sidious explained, "I am training to be a master of every form. He tells me it's impossible."

Sabre shook her head. "For a true Sith, _nothing_ is impossible. I would be honored to prove your master wrong."

"Thank you, my Lady," Sidious said. He set the training blades aside and ignited his own lightsaber. "Let's start with Juyo."

The hour was late but fear kept him awake. Plagueis replayed a piece of the holorecording.

Sidious was expertly wielding one of the electrostaffs, spinning it behind him so fast it seemed to be a blurred disc in the air. The faint image of the training hologram could be seen flickering in and out of focus. Holograms within holograms were grainy and distorted, but their audio could still be picked up through the recorders.

"_Your skills are great,"_ it said, the voice of Lady Sabre coming in loud and clear over Plagueis' miniprojector. It was connected wirelessly to a tiny spycam the size of a grain of sand that he'd placed in the training chamber.

"_Thank you, my Lady,"_ Sidious answered.

"_If your master believes you a fool for aspiring to master the lightsaber in its every form, then _he_ is the fool,"_ she said in her deep purr. _"I have never seen one take so completely to the saberstaff so quickly."_

"_I'm a quick study,"_ Sidious said, pride leaking into his voice. _"It's one of the reasons my master fears me so."_

"_He is right to fear you,"_ Sabre said.

Plagueis replayed that one exchange another time.

"_It's one of the reasons my master fears me so."_

"_He is right to fear you."_

So Sidious knew that he feared him! Plagueis' hearts froze in his throat. _How_? There were no signs, no reason for Sidious to think that—.

"Tenebrous," Plagueis growled aloud. "You have interfered your last, Master."

"Hego is becoming increasingly agitated," Tenebrous's robotic voice rang in Sidious' head. Sidious hovered meditating a meter above the sitting room floor of his flat.

"I know," Sidious replied. "I've noticed it when he watches me train."

"Yes," said Tenebrous with a touch of amusement. "Yes, he consults me when he thinks you're becoming too powerful. He asks me what he's to do. He never likes my answers."

"I have noticed _that_, as well, Master Tenebrous," matching the elder Sith Lord's amused tone.

"You have him scared, boy. More scared than he's ever been. You know what that means, do you not?"

Sidious smiled in his head. "It means everything is exactly as it should be."

"Precisely," Tenebrous said happily. "Hego was always a poor Apprentice. Powerful, but determined to do things his own way. It's more than a little entertaining to see him paying for his mistakes. But do not underestimate him, Sidious," Tenebrous warned. "He may have been a poor Apprentice, but he was a masterful student. He is quite powerful and far better trained than you."

"I still have much to learn, Master Tenebrous," Sidious said. "I would be a fool to try anything against him now."

"Very good, boy. Very goo—WHAT?" Tenebrous squawked in surprise. "What are you doing to me?"

Puzzled, Sidious asked, "What are you talking about, Master?"

"I feel myself slipping into Chaos!" he cried in alarm. "I don't understand!" He sounded far away to Sidious' ears. He could feel Tenebrous's presence lessening by the second.

"What's happening to you, Master?"

"He's finally done it," Tenebrous said incredulously, sounding very small now. "He's finally figured out how."

"Who?" asked Sidious, frantically attempting to anchor the Sith's spirit. "What's happening to you?"

"Hego," Tenebrous now sounded as though he were shouting from a kilometer away. "Continue your work, boy! You are the one! You will bring glory to..." And then he was gone.

"Master Tenebrous?" Sidious called out, but there was no reply. He couldn't sense the Sith Master's presence any longer. He was just…gone. What had he said? "I feel myself slipping into Chaos." Then he'd said, "He's finally done it." Sidious put it all together. The only explanation was Plagueis. He must have somehow found out about Tenebrous communing with Sidious and discovered a way to banish him. He sensed his master exhaustion many kilometers away in his apartment at Five Hundred Republica. Plagueis was suddenly very weak, near collapse. It could only be from banishing Tenebrous into the netherworld of the Sith. Plagueis would demand an explanation once he had rested. And Sidious had better have a good one.

Sidious' joints ached fiercely as he strode beside Plagueis through the brightly lit halls of the Senate building. His master had been livid when he'd confronted him about Lord Tenebrous. His punishment was swift and severe; there was no time-out in a howling Void. No, that time, Sidious' lesson was pain. He'd been blasted with Force lightning until he began to black out. His chest was still covered in faint burns and his every muscle and joint throbbed. He felt as though he'd been hit by an airspeeder. He fed off of this pain, however. He siphoned it into his healing meditations, never allowing Plagueis the satisfaction of seeing him wince.

Dressed in very uncomfortable but fashionably in-style clothes, Sidious sulked as he followed his master to his Senate office. There was an important bill being discussed that day that Plagueis wanted Sidious to be present for. As Sidious' Sith training advanced, Plagueis told the boy he wanted to begin his _other_ training, that which would see him in office someday.

As they approached the offices, they were stopped by an old Twi'lek and his personal aide, a gaunt, skeletal Human with sharp cheeks, sunken eyes, and pallid complexion nearly as pale as his boss's.

"Hego!" said the ghostly white humanoid. His lekku were wrapped in velvet elegantly embossed with intricate filigree in a style hailing from the senator's homeworld of Ryloth.

Plagueis put on his warmest fake smile. "Senator Har'imec, good day," he said with a bow of his smooth square head.

The Twi'lek smiled wide, showing his sharp teeth. "And to you, Senator Damask. You know my aide, Sate Pestage. He was appointed to me by the Senate temp agency, but he's the best aide I've ever had. Took him onto my personal payroll!" He nodded to the fragile-looking man beside him who couldn't have been older than Sidious was himself.

"Of course," Plagueis said warmly, extending his hand to the young man. "May I introduce my personal assistant and protégé, Palpatine."

Sidious shook both of their hands and smiled politely, despite the agony in his joints at the gesture.

"Yes," Har'imec said, his smile broadening. "I remember watching you speak, young man. When Hego here was campaigning. You're a natural."

Despite himself, pride swelled in Sidious' chest. "Thank you, sir." He could sense the subtle ire radiating off Plagueis. It was clear he loathed the Twi'lek. It seemed to make the compliment all the more sweet.

"Credit where credit's due, m'boy," Har'imec responded jovially. He turned back to Plagueis. "Well, Hego, I guess we'll see you in session, eh? It's going to be a real burner of a debate, I can tell you that right now."

"Indeed," Plagueis answered.

Har'imec clapped the spindly Muun hard on the shoulder and Plagueis gave an exaggerated stumble. "See you then, Senator!" Then to Sidious: "Keep up the fine work, son. Might be we see _you_ in there someday, m'boy!"

"Come along, Sate," he motioned with one of his lekku. "I see Imelda Crass. I'd like you to meet her…" The two marched off to assault another senator with Har'imec's incessant cheerfulness.

Sidious looked over at Plagueis after the pair had left; the Muun was glaring at the Twi'lek's backside, no doubt imagining all the ways he'd like to murder the senator. He'd never seen his master look so sour. "I despise that man," Plagueis growled quietly through gritted teeth. "If I had my lightsaber…"

"Would you like to use mine, sir?" Sidious asked nonchalantly.

Plagueis jerked his head to look at his Apprentice. "What did you say?"

Sidious shrugged. "I asked if you'd like to use mine."

"You brought your lightsaber? _Here?_ Are you mad!" The fury in Plagueis' tone matched the fire in his eyes. He was having trouble keeping his voice down, so great was his anger. "Jedi regularly walk these halls! How _dare_ you endanger our order like this!" He eyed Sidious up and down. "Where are you hiding it? I can't see it."

Sidious made a subtle motion with his right arm, as if he were working a sore muscle in his shoulder. From seemingly out of nowhere, he produced a metal cylinder. His lightsaber. "I put it up my sleeve, sir." When in public, he still addressed Plagueis as "sir." It had become second nature now and he never slipped up as he had in the beginning. Sidious gave a little smirk as he slipped it back up his sleeve. "I thought it was rather poetic."

Plagueis fumed. "You will be dealt with," he growled. Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched down the carpeted hallway toward his office. Sidious continued to smirk as he followed his master in silence. He knew he would pay dearly, but he didn't care. Most of his respect for the old Sith was gone. He only needed to hold out until he became powerful enough to depose him. The thought soured his mood. That could end up being a considerable long time. Maybe aggravating his master this early in his training _wasn't_ such a good idea…

The day wore on as slowly as any Sidious had ever lived. Neither his nor Plagueis' moods had improved, making an already boring day just that much more unpleasant. Just when he thought boredom might literally snatch him from his mortal coil, Plagueis stood from his desk and motioned for Sidious to follow.

"Come, boy," he said without a glance. "The Senate is meeting." He straightened his azure and midnight blue robes and walked out the door.

Sidious glanced at the wall chrono. They'd been sitting there for over two hours in complete silence. Normally Sidious preferred the quiet, but this silence had been bogged down by the waves of agitation Plagueis made sure he was sending his apprentice's way. The Sith wanted to ensure he was making Sidious' time as miserable as possible. He gave a sigh and hurried to catch up to the Senator.

When he'd made it to Plagueis' side, he dared to asked what the meeting was about.

"The Jedi wish to be involved in Coruscant Security Force matters," Plagueis said flatly as he walked. "In essence, they would be able to assign their own agents to be law enforcement officers."

"How is that different from what they do now already?"

Plagueis stopped, forcing Sidious to pirouette deftly around the tall Muun to avoid running into him. "They are currently under the command of the Senate," Plagueis explained in his irritated tone. "They are not permitted to interfere in security matters unless directly appointed by the Senate. If this bill passes, which fortunately it doesn't appear that it will, they will have the authority to assign Jedi to cases _without_ Senate approval."

Sidious shook his head. "I still don't see the significance. Even if they _were_ able to assign their own police to cases, so what? I fail to see how that affects _us_."

"Use your head, boy," Plagueis growled. "The less power the Jedi have the better, no matter what."

"I disagree, sir," Sidious argued. "If more Jedi were in the public eye, the people would be more likely to see them make mistakes without the Senate or the Council able to cover them up."

"Inversely, they could be seen as even more god-like," Plagueis countered. "What if they are allowed partial police status and crime rates go down? What if quality of life goes _up_? Are you willing to risk a potentially Jedi-controlled state in the future on the notion that they _might_ make a mistake?"

"When put like that," Sidious said sourly, "I suppose not."

Plagueis sighed. "You are an intelligent being, Palpatine. You have the uncommon ability to see the whole picture despite the myriad insignificant minutiae flitting around obscuring most beings' view. You simply need to make out the finer details of the picture before acting on it." Plagueis seemed in a better mood but Sidious didn't dare allow himself to believe for a second that he was back on his master's good side.

"Yes, sir," he answered. How he hated being subservient. Since he'd realized his power, he reviled being forced to say "sir" and "master" as though he were some lowly peasant. The day when he was Master just couldn't come swift enough.

Plagueis sat in the dark, brooding. The failure of the Jedi Police Authority Bill should have brightened his day. But it didn't. Something else was weighing on his mind.

He did not lament the loss of his master. Nor did he really regret banishing his spirit into Chaos. He couldn't quite describe his feelings. On the one hand, Tenebrous had been conspiring with his apprentice, undermining his authority as Master. But on the other hand, the Bith had been like a father to him in his own right. He'd raised him, taught him, empowered him. There were times that Plagueis had even felt…_loved_. Insomuch as a Sith can express such emotion, anyhow.

True, love was not an emotion one would normally associate with the Sith, but there was _something_ there, a kind of familial bond that inevitably forms between a Master and an Apprentice. Some Dark Lords chose to see their students as little more than instruments, tools, extensions of their will. Those Apprentices became mindless, violent automatons. Or even more dangerous, bitter and full of resent and hatred for their Master. To raise and train a successful Apprentice, a Sith must take a page out of the Jedi manual. He must form a connection with the Apprentice. Not too close, not as the Jedi do. But a certain level of emotional attachment is essential to the process. Tenebrous had been a firm Master, cruel at times, very wise and undeniably powerful. But Plagueis knew..._felt_…that the Bith had cared for him like a son. At the very least, Plagueis would miss his counsel. Tenebrous had, in his own brusque way, much wisdom to share. His presence would be missed.

Regardless, Plagueis knew he had made the right decision. He couldn't be undermined in that way. Tenebrous was trying to poison Sidious' mind, to turn him against his master. Plagueis knew it, he could _feel_ it. The clandestine psychic trysts had done serious damage to his relationship with the boy. And since he'd rid himself of Lord Tenebrous, young Sidious had become much more obedient; some damage had been reversed. The boy had once respected Plagueis like a father. But now, the elder Sith Lord could sense that the respect was all but evaporated. Sidious cursed him under his breath, sneered at him behind his back. That would have to change. The fear had left Sidious' eyes. He knew he was more powerful than his master and he knew his master knew it. He was arrogant. And he was dangerous. And though he'd never admit it, indeed he hated to admit it even to himself, Plagueis was very much afraid of him. Six months previous, he could confidently say that if Sidious were to rebel, to lash out against him, his Apprentice would fall. But now….Sidious was well on his way to reaching his goal of mastering every blade form and his control of the Force had increased exponentially. Now, he just didn't know if he could defend himself. He really didn't. And the Force…

_Bugger the Force_, he thought bitterly. The Force hadn't showed him anything, hadn't hinted at the outcome of the battle he knew would one day take place. He felt abandoned, which was of course ridiculous. The path of a Sith was a solitary one. But he felt as though the Force itself had left him. Oh, he could still access it, manipulate it, use it for his own ends. But what was once a symbiotic relationship now felt entirely one-sided, as though it resented him for banishing his master.

_Preposterous_, he thought. _The Force has no will of its own. It's _Sidious_. His disobedience has thrown me off balance. _If he weren't too old to train another he'd—_I'd what?_ he thought sourly._ Get myself killed trying to destroy him? That would hardly solve my problems._

_You know what you must do…_said a ghostly voice in his head.

"I know what—?"

_Your research. Finish it._ What was this voice?

"My-my _research_? But that could take years."

_Then you'd best work as often as you can. You cannot allow Sidious to rob you of your work, your _legacy_._

"My legacy," he whispered. "No," he said firmly. "No, he can't do that. I've come too far. He _won't_!" He growled in the dark, slamming an angry fist on his desk and toppling a stack of datapads that clattered to the floor.

_Once you are immortal, you can find a new Apprentice._

"There's none as strong as Palpatine," Plagueis argued weakly with the voice. He noticed vaguely that he hadn't even wondered where it was coming from. Perhaps it was simply his mind trying to work through his problems, or perhaps the Force was no so angry with him as he's imagined.

_Finish your work. With it you can _create_ an Apprentice, conceived by the Force itself, more powerful than any Force user this galaxy will ever know._

"Yes," Plagueis mumbled to himself. "That's absolutely right. If I can perfect my control over the midi-chlorians, not only could I prolong my own life. I could instruct them to _create _life!" He stood and began to pace, raving like a madman. "This child would be powerful. The _most_ powerful. Limitless. If it could be found, trained…" He trailed off, imagining the possibilities. He could live forever, with the most powerful being in the galaxy as his to command. The Sith would reign supreme forever, extinguishing the light of the Jedi once and for all. _Yes_, he thought to himself. _It could just work._

Kilometers away in his apartment, Sidious smiled malevolently in the dark. "All too easy."


End file.
